


All She Could Be

by rosesandcinnamon



Series: All She Could Be [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, F/F, F/M, Gen, Girls in Love, High School AU, I am not sorry, Multi, and everything actually, ascb has been described as "lingering and festering darkness", happy endings, historia denies her gayness, homophobic douchebag mother, i have been called satan for this and a couple others, like literally - Freeform, nO BERTLS LAST NAME IS FUBAR, springles - Freeform, yumikuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-07 17:01:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 25,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosesandcinnamon/pseuds/rosesandcinnamon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Historia Reiss is the girl with everything, but she's always felt there's something missing. When Ymir comes into her life, she finds that it's okay to feel the way she does (about a lot of things).<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the life in a day

_“Ymir-“_

_Ymir kissed her again before she could continue, drowning her words in affection._

_But Historia pulled away, blue eyes bright with panic._

_“No- I can’t-“_

_“Can’t what, Historia? Can’t kiss me? Can’t accept that there might be more to life than what you have?”_

* * *

Historia slowed to a stop at the light, looking at the traffic and sighing. She laid her head back, angry at herself for feeling sad.

What did she have to feel sad about?

Not her perfect grades.

Not her kind-of boyfriend.

Not her position in the cheerleading squad.

Not her loving parents.

Not her wonderful friends.

_Nothing._

It just always felt like… Something was wrong. Something was missing. And it was ridiculous!

Historia Reiss was the girl with everything.

She jumped when someone honked at her, startled out of her thoughts. Realizing the light was green, she drove forward with a sigh.

 It was just going to be a bad day. 

\--

She sat in first period, copying the notes down with barely any thought. They watched a video after the power point, and Historia laid her head down, and when she opened her eyes the bell was ringing. Gathering her things, she left the classroom, careful to not be in anyone’s way. She made her way to second period, smiling brightly at everyone who said hello to her. She made it to class at least a minute before the bell, as usual, and sat down.

Was there a point to this? Any of it?

She doubted it.

\--

The day was average, things looking up when she found that she had done well on her tests, and as usual, she had cheer practice at the end of the day.

She didn’t quite understand why, but she had loved doing cheerleading from their first practice in middle school. She had done gymnastics when she was younger, but there was something more to cheer gymnastics just didn’t have.

She went into the locker room with a genuine smile, going to her locker and seeing most of her friends there already. They were already talking, so she silently changed, snapping her attention back to the wall when she found herself staring at one of the girls.

Practice went well, even if she was a little out of it. And as usual, her doubts caught up with her after seeing all the others do so well. Mikasa was in cheer, as expected. She did everything, and did it perfectly.

Honestly, the only reason Mikasa hadn’t been chosen for cheer captain is that Historia had more pep, never letting the smile drop. And maybe because Mikasa looked scary with a fake smile.

Four thirty came sooner than Historia would have liked, Petra dismissing them to go change and go home. The girls talked as they went back to the locker room, and Historia answered a couple questions about her weekend, glossing it over, saying she’d hung out with Reiner, and done homework, mostly.

Really, she had spent most of it in bed, texting Reiner when he asked if she wanted to hang out, and doing what homework she could concentrate on.

And then stayed up way too late on Sunday night panicking over said homework, of course.

The usual, you know? 

\--

She came home to an empty house, her parents still at work, and flopped onto her bed with a sigh. Her phone buzzed, and her mom had texted her, letting her know both she and her father would be working late tonight, and to order takeout or something. Feeling slightly abandoned, she texted back with fake enthusiasm.

Well, if she was alone for the next few hours, she might as well actually eat something. She went downstairs, looking in the fridge and the pantry, finding them both unfortunately bare. With a long sigh, she went upstairs to throw on a sweatshirt and grab her keys.

When she got to her favorite diner, Sasha was working the dinner shift.

“Historia!”

She looked up at the sound of her name, smiling when she recognized Sasha’s voice.

“Hey! I didn’t know you were working tonight!”

“Neither did I! Annie didn’t show, so Erwin called me in.”

Sasha led Historia to a corner booth, putting a menu down and sitting to talk for a minute or two before taking her order and going back to the kitchen.

She let her attention wander, eyes drawn to the only other people in the diner, two dark-haired people sitting a little ways away. They sat in the same side of the booth, playfully jostling each other while talking. The girl, hair back in a clip, had freckles. Freckles _everywhere_. Historia watched her talk to the boy beside her, letting herself be distracted. Sasha’s reappearance startled her, and she jumped a little when she heard her talk.

“Lost in thought, there?”

“Yeah! Sorry!”

Sasha laughed, placing her drink and food in front of her and after leaving for a moment to give the people Historia had been watching their order, she slid in to sit down again.

“So… What would you say if I told you Connie and I may have a …thing?”

Historia leaned across the table with interest, taking a sip.

“What kind of _thing_?”

Her voice was suggestive on the last word, and Sasha blushed, looking away.

“We’ve always been friends… I’m into him… he’s into me…”

“Since when?”

“I don’t know! Just… suddenly we were looking at each other differently.”

Historia grabbed her hands, smiling.

“You guys would make the best couple! I hope you do get together, Sasha.”

She smiled nervously, and Historia frowned, not liking her hesitancy. Sasha was the kind of person to throw herself into anything she did.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m just really afraid of screwing things up. What if we don’t work romantically? I like him, but I don’t want to lose him as a friend.”

Historia nodded, squeezing her hand.

“I get it. Yeah, that’s scary, I agree. But I know you can work it out.”

Sasha smiled at her, changing the subject.

“So are you and Reiner …serious?”

Historia shrugged, accidentally looking over to the brunette.

“Not really.”

“Do you want it to be?”

“…Not really.”

Sasha sighed, shaking her head at her.

“Details!”

“It’s just… yeah, he’s sweet and he’s a good guy, but he’s not my type, really. I don’t have a type, or haven’t found it.”

Sasha looked at her strangely for a minute, until her name was shouted from the kitchens and she had to go, and Historia wasn’t able to ask. She concentrated on her food, eating slowly, not noticing she had already eaten some while talking with Sasha.

After a couple minutes, Sasha came back with the bill, smiling apologetically.

“Sorry it’s not on the house, Historia, Levi just yelled at me, even though there aren’t any customers to neglect when no one’s here. “

Historia nodded over to the other side, smiling at her.

“There’s them.”

Sasha turned around and groaned, having forgotten about them.

“Be right back.”

As Historia got ready to go, Sasha went over and talked to them, making sure everything was alright. She came back, and Historia’s eyes were drawn past her, to the brunette girl, but she brought her attention back to Sasha, hugging her goodbye. She left, thinking about the brunette, and never realized she had been looking back.

 “You’ve been _looking_ at that girl…”

Bertholdt elbowed Ymir gently, raising his eyebrows, and she blushed, pushing back.

“Shut up! I have not!”

“You think she’s cute, don’t you?”

“Maybe… a little bit… a lot.”

He poked her, grinning.

“Knew it! She seems your type, though I don’t get it.”

Ymir rolled her eyes at him, smirking.

“Bertl, we have like, the exact opposite types.”

“True.”

He laughed, and Ymir smiled sadly, avoiding her brother’s eyes.

“I can’t help but wonder what Mom would have thought.”

He nodded, and slid out of the booth, grabbing his jacket.

“Let’s pay, we need to get home.”

Ymir followed, and after the bill was paid, he sighed.

“You ready for our first day of school?”


	2. her eyes are steady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ymir shows up, and fucks up, but tries to fix it, and that's enough to make Historia like her.

Historia woke up the next morning, groaning at the sound of her alarm, and she rolled over, trying to gauge how she felt.

Good enough to go to school?

Yes.

She got up, going into the bathroom, going through her daily routine.

In all honesty, that morning was nothing special until second period.

\---

Historia had her head on her desk during Bio when Hanji called for the class’s attention, and she raised her head dutifully, but instead of just her teacher up front, she saw the brunette from the night before. She was pointedly looking at her feet, looking uncomfortable. Historia finally realized Hanji was talking, and she forced her attention away from her.

“It must be really hard to transfer in during senior year, so would anyone like to help Ymir out?”

Seeing that no one, not even the suck-ups, raised their hands, Historia did, taking another look at Ymir, taking a second to absently wonder about her name. She did look a little shady, maybe even scruffy, but Historia didn’t mind. Hanji smiled at her, pointing Ymir towards the empty table Historia sat at.

“That’s Historia.”

Ymir looked at her, and Historia felt her heart flutter.

 _Shit_.

\--

Historia was showing Ymir the map of the school, pointing out places she should know. Ymir turned her gaze to the other girl, putting those steady eyes on her, and Historia felt like she could tell anything to her, and still be loved. Her voice brought her out of the thought, and she concentrated again.

“Where do people go to smoke? Where do obnoxious couples sneak off to during lunch periods or passing periods, do you know?”

Ymir smirked at her flustered silence, leaning in.

“You don’t know, do you? ‘Course not, I knew it.”

“There’s a storage shed out by the tennis courts I know is a popular spot. The dumpsters, bathrooms, couple of the portables are empty, so over by them is relatively safe.”

She smiled at Ymir, enjoying the surprised look on her face.

“I may be a cheerleader, but I’m not entirely oblivious.”

“Cheerleader?”

“Yeah, I’m captain!”

Just thinking about cheer made her smile, and Ymir watched her face with interest.

“What else do you do around here?”

The smile faltered, just for a second, as she thought about her weekends spent alone in her room. It was quickly reformed, but Ymir had already seen the hesitation.

“Um, movies, the mall, the pool in summer, if I find a job, working, I guess…”

Ymir narrowed her eyes, noticing how she didn’t say a word about people. Historia, used to no one catching on to the hints in the way she talked, didn’t register Ymir’s attention to detail.

“What about the people around here? Popular crowds, assholes, anyone worth mentioning?”

“I suppose me and my friends are popular, being the athletes, but otherwise… I don’t know. I don’t… socialize much.”

Historia found herself saying it so casually, letting it out without a thought, and she met Ymir’s eyes slowly. The other girl, piecing together everything Historia had just said, didn’t think about what she then said.

“You really are perfect, aren’t you?”

Her words stopped Historia in her tracks, freezing as the bell rang. Without a word, she picked up her things and left, face carefully neutral.

Ymir watched her go, regretting the question, even without knowing why it got that reaction. With a heavy sigh and a mutter, she left the room.

“And as always, you can’t even make friends, can you?”

\--

Ymir shoved her way through the halls, finding her way to her next classroom. When she went in, Bertholdt was hanging awkwardly behind the teacher, towering over the short man. She nudged her brother, and he turned his head to smile at her. The teacher turned around and if his face was capable of emotion, he would have looked surprised.

“Oh God, there are two of you.”

Ymir laughed out loud, and Bertholdt smiled awkwardly. The teacher sighed heavily, and pointed towards an empty table in the back.

“I’m Mr. Rivaille. Go sit back there, I’ll have-“

He frowned, scanning the classroom.

“Reiner! Come catch them up on the class.”

A blond boy looked up, eyes falling on Bertholdt. He smiled slowly, and picked up his backpack to move to where Mr. Rivaille had pointed. The siblings followed, sitting down. The blonde boy barely looked at Ymir, focusing on Bertholdt when he said hello.

“I’m Reiner.”

Bertholdt shook his hand, introducing both of them, and sat beside him as Ymir sat across from them.

“I hope you guys are good at languages, cause Mr. Rivaille is a hardass.”

Ymir sighed loudly, stretching.

“We’ve been taking it for a while. It’ll be better with a real live teacher though.”

Reiner looked at Bertholdt with curiosity, and he shrugged.

“We did online school for a while.”

After Mr. Rivaille glared at them, they focused on the work, but Ymir wasn’t able to fully concentrate, thinking about the look on Historia’s face right before she walked away.

\--

Ymir saw a flash of Historia in the hall, and was going to reach out, but she was headed in the opposite direction and her eyes seemed unfocused.

Sitting through her next class, half-heartedly listening, she wondered why her question had hurt her so much. It seemed like someone would like her would protest and point out all her faults, but her _face_ …

Historia didn’t seem so one-dimensional after all. While watching her at the diner, Ymir had noticed, when the waitress wasn’t with her, her face slipped into a kind of sadness she recognized all too well.

She had to find her and apologize.

\--

Historia went to history, feeling numb.

That shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did.

Why did it hurt?

She didn’t know.

Ymir walked in, scanning the room, and her eyes lit up when she saw Historia, but headed towards Mr. Smith, the teacher. While he talked to her, her eyes flicked back and forth. Finally he dismissed her, and must have told her to sit wherever, because she headed straight to Historia.

“Hey.”

Historia made a half-hearted noise at her, staring at some papers, and Ymir hesitantly touched her arm.

“I am really, really sorry for what I said earlier. I wasn’t even thinking about it, and I had no idea that it was insensitive. I’m- I’m really bad at making friends.”

By then, she was barely looking at Historia, eyes lowered. Historia glanced over, seeing the expression on Ymir’s face, and shrugged.

“It… It’s okay. I’m too sensitive, it’s my fault.”

Ymir’s head shot up, surprised at her acceptance. Their eyes met, and Historia smiled shyly.

“You said you weren’t good at making friends?”

“Yeah, all through elementary and middle school I had just one friend, and then… um, we had to move and Bertl and I did online school. My brother’s my best friend, really.”

“Mm, that must be interesting. I’m an only child, so… I’ve been kind of lonely all my life.”

Her eyes went wide, and Ymir raised her eyebrows as she started to ramble.

“No, no, I didn’t mean that, my parents are around when they can and I love my friends, I have no right to be lonely-“

Ymir stopped her with a gentle touch on her arm, frowning.

“Historia. It’s okay.”

She paused, staring at Ymir. All she found in the other girl’s eyes was steady compassion, and seemed so much more welcoming than any of her friends. Historia nodded, a hesitant smile on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact the way Historia describes Ymir's eyes is drawn from my crush yeah dont look at me  
> i'm very excited for ch 4 i cant wait to write it


	3. oh my talking bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ymir and historia feel comfortable around each other & historia has some issues

Ymir turned out to share most of her classes with Historia, so in eighth period she gave Ymir all her notes, and her number, telling her to ask for help if she needed it.

Ymir left with Bertholdt, wondering about her. What kind of person was she?

Confusing, at the very least.

Ymir was unsure about her. They barely even knew each other, but-

Ymir felt like she could trust her.

Which was a rare thing.

\--

Though it was finally, finally Friday, the past couple of weeks had passed much too slowly for Historia’s taste, days blurring into each other, with the exception of Ymir.  They had become friends so easily, Historia felt more comfortable with her than anyone else.

She was so blunt, but it was comforting.

And somehow, Ymir saw through the smile, the kindness, and the everyday walls she had constructed so carefully.

That morning, Ymir slipped in beside her, looking at her warmly.

“How are you?”

Historia gave her default reply without a thought, staring ahead at the whiteboard with an expression that could only be described as dead.

“I’m fine, you?”

Ymir put her backpack down, watching Historia with a sharp concern in her eyes.

“Cut it out, Historia, don’t lie to me. Is everything okay?”

She turned her head in surprise, meeting Ymir’s eyes. They looked at each other for a long moment, Historia’s eyes puffy from lack of sleep, corners of her mouth turned down.

Ymir was the only one that day who asked her how she was, instead of telling her she looked tired as if she didn’t already know.

She tried to come up with a way to explain how she felt, searching for the right words. Coming up with nothing, she shook her head, letting Ymir put a gentle hand on her back as the bell rang and class started.

\--

Once they had been given their work, Historia turned to Ymir, forcing a smile.

“How are you adjusting after moving?”

“I’m alright. Bertl and I are still getting used to being alone, and I really miss my mom.”

Historia looked up at Ymir, putting her pencil down.

“Wait, what?”

Ymir sighed.

She had let herself slip.

“Um, the reason Bertl and I did online school is because our mom got sick. Really, really sick, and then they had to move her for better treatment, coincidentally where our dad moved after the divorce, so instead of going to a new school we just homeschooled ourselves. And after- we, we both wanted to move back, so… we came here.”

Historia listened, taking all the new information in.

“I’m- I’m sorry, Ymir, that must have been really hard on both of you.”

Ymir nodded, staring down at her paper, trying to ignore the sting in her eyes. Historia opened her textbook, moving her things to put it in between them, softly telling her the chapter started there.

They worked in silence, both of them grateful for it.

\--

They got through the day, supporting each other the best they could. Ymir told her, in eighth period, that she planned to go home and sleep for as long as possible. Historia nodded, smiling slightly.

\--

That night, Historia lay around, watching Netflix on her tablet, absently thinking about Ymir.

What was it about her that made her feel, when she was capable of feeling, that no matter what happened, she was going to be okay? What was it about her that made Historia actually feel more than nothing?

Nothing, no one, did that to her besides cheer. And sometimes, even that wasn’t enough to chase her doubts and insecurities and fears and sadness away.

Why was she different?

Breaking into her thoughts, her phone buzzed, and she rolled over, blindly grasping for her phone.

It was a text from Reiner.

[Reiner: U eaten yet?]

She sighed heavily, knowing where this was going.

[Historia: No, why?]

[Reiner: Wanna eat at the diner? Just us?]

Historia slid off her bed, picking up her jeans from earlier and changing, texting him back. It was free food, after all, even if she didn’t like Reiner all that much. And her parents liked to see her out of the house.

[Historia: Sure! :)]

She went into her bathroom, making sure her makeup was still alright, and ran a brush through her, as always, perfectly straight hair. Sasha, with her naturally curly hair, jokingly hated Historia for it, and once, Historia had heard her tell Mikasa that “it has to be compensating, I swear to God”, and Mikasa had actually _laughed_. She didn’t understand, but whatever. She left the basement, grabbing her keys, shouting to her father that she would be back later, and leaving.

When she got to the diner, Reiner was already there, waving her over to a corner booth. He smiled as she sat across from him, nodding to a glass on the table.

“Hey! I got you a lemonade, thought you would like it. What do you want to eat?”

Historia forced herself to smile, taking a sip of the drink. She actually hated normal lemonade, but she wouldn’t tell Reiner that. He had already been so kind to order it for her, she didn’t want to make any trouble.

“I don’t know yet! Let me look.”

Historia set her glass down, picking up the menu like she hadn’t flipped through it so many times before. She wanted a burger, or, even better, pancakes. But she forced her attention away from it, looking at the salads as a waitress came by.

 “Oh, it’s you two. What do you want?”

Historia looked up with a smile, recognizing her flat voice.

“Hey, Annie! Chicken and walnut salad, please.”

She gave Annie her menu as Reiner ordered, wishing she would stay.

Things had always been awkward between Reiner and her. Not exactly dating, but not exactly platonic either. She had a feeling he didn’t like the numerous boys throughout the school infatuated with her, though he had the exact same situation with the girls, and she didn’t care.

Honestly, dating hadn’t interested her so far. What was the point if you were going to break up in a week and a half? What was the point of breaking your heart over a relationship that wouldn’t last? Why bother?

Besides, none of the boys at her school, or ever, had made her feel anything.

And she was too afraid to even think about how she really felt.

“Historia? You okay there?”

She blinked, Reiner’s voice drawing her out of her thoughts, and she blushed.

“Oh, I’m sorry! Were you trying to talk to me?”

He laughed, and Historia smiled, trying to pretend his laughter didn’t hurt her.

“It’s no big deal, I was asking about school. How do you think you’ll do on the French test next week?”

Historia froze.

There was a test next week?

She was going to fucking fail. And then her GPA was going to go down, and then she’d be kicked off of cheer, and then her parents would have a reason to not leave her alone, and then people would pay closer attention to her, oh God-

“I think I’ll do okay! What about you?”

“I’m not so sure, things have gotten hard recently.”

Historia nodded sympathetically, trying to stop her frantic thoughts as Annie came to her rescue with their food. From there, she could take a bite every time Reiner tried to continue their conversation.

Finally, it was getting late and she refused dessert, so they left the diner, standing outside to say goodbye. Reiner kissed her unexpectedly, but before he could bring her closer, Historia pulled away, apologizing instead of leaving without a word like she truly wanted.

“I’m really sorry, Reiner, it’s late, my parents will be worried. Thank you for dinner.”

He smiled, and she walked away, getting in her car and driving home.

When she got home, she checked her phone, and there was a text from Ymir.

[Ymir: Wanna study for the french test next week]

[Ymir: Cause im totally fucked]

Historia laughed, sending a reply and changing back into comfortable clothing.

[Historia: Please. You could come over tomorrow?]

They worked out a plan, and Historia went to bed soon after, seeing no use in staying up and hating herself.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to me this chapter is kinda ugh but w/e   
> soo this chapter was supposed to be about ymir and historia getting to know each other but writing platonic yumikuri is hard and i prefer angsty character development   
> i'm very very very excited for ch4 its gonna be great


	4. i wanna stay inside all day i want the world to go away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Historia isn't listening to herself, but maybe she'll listen to Ymir.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably say this now anyways. 
> 
> Historia's mental state and feelings are based entirely off of mine. I've never been diagnosed with anything, and I hesitate to call my feelings anxiety and/or depression, although there is a history of mental disorders in my family. Honestly, I don't know what the fuck is up with my brain. That aside, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

When her alarm went off that morning, Historia knew she wasn’t getting up.

She barely had the energy to _think_ about leaving her bed, let alone leave the house. Taking her phone from the nightstand, she texted her mom, knowing it would be seen eventually.

[Historia: Could you call the school for me? I’m not feeling very well]

Putting it underneath her pillow, she dragged her blankets up to her nose, curling in on herself and closing her eyes.

\--

The front door slamming shut woke her hours later, and Historia checked the clock. Nine fifteen. Her dad must have left late again. The sunlight coming in through her curtains, the emptiness of her stomach, and her cramped muscles prompted her to get up, taking a blanket with her. She went upstairs, stopping in the bathroom, and looked around the kitchen for something simple to make. Finding nothing that didn’t require effort, she poured a bowl of cereal, taking it to the huge couch in the living room, preferring it over the smaller one in the basement.

Settling in the cushions, she turned the TV on, not even looking as she ate.

Historia could handle an up and down day, but she couldn’t deal with days like this. She couldn’t.

Not when nothing felt real and she couldn’t concentrate on a thing.  

If you made her describe it, she would tell you she just felt hollow. Cold. Like waiting for something you knew wasn’t going to happen, over and over, deluding yourself into having hope.

No one had ever understood her when she had tried to explain it, so she settled for avoiding everyone when she felt like this. She asked herself, though, if she should really be alone when she felt so badly.

But Historia always pushed that away. Besides, she couldn’t burden anyone with her meaningless problems.

Though, Ymir would listen, or at least she thought so. But they had known each other for about a month now, and though they were close, she didn’t really know where their boundaries were.

Leaving the TV on a random channel, she put her empty bowl on the floor, covering her feet with the blanket and putting her head down.

-

The doorbell, ringing repeatedly, woke Historia.

It had to be someone she knew, because no one professional would do that. She got up, leaving her blanket behind, and she turned out to be right. The door hadn’t been shut properly, and she heard Ymir’s voice.

“C’mon, Historia, fucking open the door, I know you’re home.”

Historia unlocked the door, and Ymir looked up from her phone, startled.

“Hey.”

Historia just looked at her, face red with an imprint from the couch cushion and hair sticking up. Ymir smiled slightly, liking the fact that Miss Perfect got bedhead.

“What do you want? Why aren’t you at school?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking _you_ that?”

Historia sighed, self-consciously trying to get her hair to lie flat and looking away from Ymir.

“Just- just go, Ymir. Please.”

Her voice was soft, tired, and the please sounded more like a question than a statement. She turned, about to close the door, when Ymir caught her arm. She held on, gently enough to avoid hurting her, but enough to get her attention.

Ymir’s gaze was steady, and Historia blinked, unaccustomed to that much focus on her. 

“You really want me to go?”

Historia opened her mouth to respond, but stopped, tears welling up, shaking her head in answer.

Ymir stepped inside, moving her gently to close the door. With that done, she brushed Historia’s hair back, looking down at her with genuine concern.

Historia buried her face in Ymir’s shirt, hands curled into the soft material. Ymir, a little startled, put her arms around the smaller girl, resting her cheek on her head.

When her tears seemed like they wouldn’t be stopping anytime soon, Ymir tried to unlatch Historia from her shirt, but with a small noise, she hung on tighter, unwilling to let her go.

“Historia, it’s okay, I just want to get you comfortable.”

 She nodded, raising her head, and Ymir felt her chest tighten at seeing her glassy eyes and red face. She ignored it, however, and left an arm around Historia, keeping her close.

Hoping she wouldn’t mind, Ymir guided her to the couch, semi-familiar with the layout of her house. She settled down against the arm of the couch, never letting her go. Historia followed, curling up and resting her head on Ymir’s chest, hiccupping. Ymir just rubbed her back, hoping to get her calmer.

Eventually, she did. Ymir had moved to running her fingers through her hair, idly playing with the fine blonde strands. She stayed quiet, and didn’t look at Historia when she did speak, not wanting to pressure her.

“You want to talk about it?”

She hesitated before replying, voice cracking.

“There’s… nothing to talk about.”

Ymir tilted her head down, mouth right at Historia’s ear, voice soft.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, or at all, but... If you’re crying like that, it’s not just nothing.”

“It doesn’t matter, Ymir, really.”

Ymir, even more worried, pulled Historia up, supporting her and looking her straight in the eye.

“Historia. Don’t fucking lie to me. I care about you, and I care about what’s wrong.”

The honesty in her voice just made Historia fall apart all over again, trying to muffle a sob. Ymir moved her closer, into her lap, and held the smaller girl, closing her eyes and resting her head against Historia’s.

“It’s just- sometimes everything is too much and I can’t handle it, and today is one of those days, there’s nothing- nothing specifically wrong, I have no reason to be sad-“

“It’s alright, Historia, it’s alright. You can be sad, you don’t have to have a reason.”

Historia cried herself out, and fell asleep against Ymir. Adjusting her weight in her arms, she got up, carrying Historia downstairs and putting her underneath a blanket on her bed.

She turned to go, when Historia, half-asleep, reached out and brushed her arm, whining quietly. She moved over, and Ymir, smiling, kicked her shoes off and curled around her.

And if Historia felt Ymir kiss her head, she didn’t say a word.


	5. when you and I are alone I've never felt so at home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They just really enjoy each other's company. Nothing more, what are you talking about? There is nothing romantic between them, not at all.

After that day, Ymir and Historia were a lot closer.

Historia didn’t understand.

How could someone so easily slip into her life and feel like she belonged there and had always been? How did Historia let her in so easily?

Why was Ymir so determined to see Historia happy, genuinely happy?

She didn’t deserve it. She didn’t deserve Ymir.

_Ymir._

Historia rolled over, pressing her face into the pillow next to her, the one that had unofficially become Ymir’s.

It smelled like her.

Ymir smelled like cinnamon, and Historia would dislike it on anyone else but her. The scent fit Ymir, sharp and harsh but sweet.

It was comforting.

(Historia did _not_ take one of Ymir’s jackets she had left behind, no, what kind of person would think that?)

(She had.)

Ymir slept over whenever she could, on weekends and days when she didn’t need to go home for something.

A previously empty half of her bed was now Ymir’s, and it made Historia so, so…

Happy.

She hadn’t used that word to describe herself in a very long time.

Her anxiety bothered her a lot, and she had her bad days, but the negativity had lessened with Ymir around to distract her from herself, to hold her when she needed it, and to make sure she took care of herself.

Historia was incredibly grateful for it.

Maybe “happy” was more like “content”.

But it was an improvement all the same.

And, Historia didn’t understand why she felt so strongly towards Ymir.

But she avoided thinking about _that_ , preferring to leave that part of their relationship alone, tucked into a corner of her mind, away from everything else.

She wasn’t going to ruin this.

\--

Mikasa, in the locker room after school, beckoned her over to a corner, away from Sasha and Mina, too busy talking to notice them.

“Sasha’s birthday party is on Saturday. Could you get a cake or something?”

Historia nodded, already running through some ideas.

“Of course! Anything else?”

“No, we’ve got it covered. I’ll text you the time. Thank you, Historia.”

Mikasa gave her a small smile, and they changed, heading to cheer practice.

\--

 On Thursday night, Historia found out none of the bakeries or stores anywhere in town sold cake that had anything to do with Nutella. This was a huge disappointment, as Sasha’s favorite food (did Nutella even count as food?) was just that.

Historia sighed, leaning back and thinking about her problem, until she realized.

Why not bake it herself?

She did some Googling, and making a list, she called Ymir. She picked up quickly, laughing at something before greeting her.

“Hey, Historia. What’s up?”

“Not much, I was just wondering- You want to help me bake a cake?”

“Depends.  Do I get to eat this cake?”

“You could have some of it, I suppose, it’s for Sasha’s birthday.”

“Hmm…”

There was silence on the other end, and Historia laughed.

“I’d let you lick the bowls.”

“Sweet, I’ll be there. Tomorrow night?”

“Yeah. You wanna ride home with me so we can go to the store? I’d skip cheer.”

Historia cut herself off from adding a “for you” to her last sentence, and waited for Ymir’s reply, hearing muffled talking.

Ymir shouted something, and there were some scuffling noises. Historia smiled, knowing she and Bertholdt were probably hitting each other over something stupid one of them had said.

“Sorry. Yeah, that sounds good. Wha- _Bertholdt_! No!”

There was silence, and then Ymir came back, words rushed.

“Sorry Historia I gotta go see you tomorrow!”

“Bye!”

Ymir hung up, and Historia smiled, putting her phone down.

For once, having weekend plans didn’t feel like such a chore.

\--

Historia’s alarm woke her up, and she stretched slowly, not wanting to leave her warm bed. With a sigh, she slipped out of the covers, smiling.

She was actually kind of looking forward to Sasha’s party, and making a cake with Ymir.

She came to a halt in the middle of her room, confused.

When, exactly, had she started to look forward to something other than cheer?

She was skipping cheer today! Ignoring her commitment! Dumping her responsibilities on others!

And she thought nothing of it, just glad she had plans she didn’t dread for once.

\--

The day passed quickly, Historia content to wait.

And finally, they were in her car, radio turned up loud and the windows down, singing.

More like shouting than singing.

“You can call me queen beeeeeeeeeeeeeee, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand baby I'll rule, I'll rule, I'll rule, I'll ruleeeeee, let me live that fantaaaaaaasy.”

Ymir was much louder and much more obnoxious than Historia. Obviously.

A commercial for the station came and went, and a new song started, slow piano music filling the car.

_“Say something I’m giving up on you.”_

Ymir shifted uneasily, all the laughter from moments ago gone.

“Turn that shit off, will you?”

Historia nodded, flipping it to a different station, as uneasy as Ymir.

“Sure.”

She sighed as a different song came on and rested her head against the window, absently watching Historia’s focused face.

“Sorry, that song’s just…”

Historia smiled at her and turned back to the road, Ymir still looking at her.

“It’s okay, me too.”

\--

When they got to the grocery store, Ymir just followed Historia and her shopping list around the store, shoving random things in the cart when she had the chance, smiling innocently down at Historia when she turned back.

The most memorable item she shoved in was a box of condoms.

Historia picked it up, blushing furiously and glaring at her.

“Seriously, Ymir?”

Ymir shrugged with a smirk, trying not to burst into laughter.

“Don’t be silly, wrap your willy.”

Historia’s face reddened even more as she put the box back and walked away, trusting that Ymir would follow her with their cart. She did, walking faster to catch up and glide past her, putting her feet up on the bottom rack.

“Don’t be a fool, wrap your tool.”

Seeing Ymir slide past her with the most ridiculous grin on her face, saying the most ridiculous thing, made Historia laugh hysterically, eventually falling back and sitting on the floor, near tears.

Ymir was in the same situation, accidentally hitting a shelf with the cart, making a loud bang, and she fell backwards, slamming onto the cold tile, laughing as loudly as Historia.

They looked at each other from opposite sides of the aisle, tears streaking their faces, hoping no one was around to see them.

But then again, they wouldn’t have cared if there was.

\--

Two hours later found them in Historia’s spacious kitchen, mixing Nutella in with cake batter. The radio was on in the background, as always, and Historia hummed along as she worked.

Ymir sat on her counter, watching silently. Historia turned away to get something out of a drawer and Ymir leaned over to dip her finger into the jar of Nutella. She waited until Historia was facing her again, and concentrating on the batter.

And then, she put the Nutella on Historia’s nose.

She stopped mixing, staring at Ymir.

“Did you just…?”

“I did.”

Historia gaped at her for a few more seconds, and then, looking unsure, she put Nutella on her fingers and reached out to Ymir.

She was aiming for her nose, but it got all along her cheekbone instead.

Ymir scowled, scooping up more than she should have and smearing it all over her face. Historia shrieked, taking the jar and backing up, throwing some at Ymir. It got on her neck, some sliding into her bra.

Ymir jumped down from the counter, standing there and staring at Historia.

“ _It’s in my bra._ ”

Historia’s eyes widened and she sidled over closer to the doorway, watching Ymir closely.

“I- I’m  sorry?”

Her face flushed slightly, and Ymir took no time to think about that before going across the kitchen to her, murder in her eyes.

Historia ran like hell.

Ymir tripped on a chair, and Historia was able to get downstairs and hide in a dark corner, barely keeping her laughter in. Her breathing was erratic, and she waited for Ymir to come find her, sure she would.

She didn’t hear anything.

And then Ymir jumped out at her, accidentally pinning her in the corner, looking down at her with a smirk.

Historia had screamed on reflex, but then they were laughing, smiling at each other with Nutella all over their faces.

The tips of their noses almost touched, and their laughter came to a stop, content to just be so close together.

And then they realized Historia was pressed up against the wall, bodies touching, Ymir’s arms folded up above Historia’s head.

_It’d be so easy to kiss her, just a little bit closer, c’mon you fucking idiot, just kiss her, all you have to do is lean in just an inch or two more-_

Ymir stepped back immediately after that thought, arms at her side awkwardly. Historia released the breath she didn’t know she had been holding, and they kinda just stared at each other for a minute.

“Can- Can I shower? It’s… sticky. And gross.”

Historia laughed slightly, nodding.

“Go ahead, I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Ymir slipped into the bathroom, and Historia went upstairs to the kitchen.

She left the batter alone, and sat at the table instead, head in her hands.

“Fuck.”

_I wanted her to kiss me, what was that, that’s not right, she’s Ymir, and I can’t fuck this up. That was so perfect (and hot) though, dammit, we were so close._

With a long sigh, she got up, going back to her cake.

Downstairs, Ymir was having the same problem. She washed the Nutella off, and stood underneath the water for longer than she needed to.

_I should have kissed her. I shouldn’t have, I did the right thing. No, no, I should have just fucking done it, goddammit, why am I such an idiot? Why is this so complicated?_

Biting her lip, she turned the water off and got out of the shower.

\--

With wet hair, she went upstairs to where Historia was just putting the pan in the oven. When Ymir saw her, she laughed.

Historia still had Nutella all over her face.

Concentrating on the oven, Historia ignored her, and Ymir got a wet paper towel, waiting for her. When the door was shut, Historia turned to Ymir with a questioning expression.

“You’ve got Nutella all over your face.”

Gently, Ymir wiped it away, applying more pressure to the stubborn spots.

Historia met her gaze, and Ymir smiled softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys are enjoying the happy(ish) times, because you're all going to hate me for chapters 7 and 8.  
> Edit: I changed the title, slightly, don't worry about it!


	6. and now my heart stumbles on things i don't know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sasha's birthday party is an interesting event.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you think this chapter is gonna be really cute, you're right.  
> But you're also really wrong.  
> Basically, this was gonna be happy, and then I tripped and fell in a well of angst. Oops!
> 
> ummm I feel like this chapter could be triggery, anxiety warning? If you want me to tell you when you should just skim, my tumblr is christa-mas.tumblr.com 
> 
> Oh they play Cards Against Humanity, bold text is the black card, italics are the white cards. Those cards are all taken from games I've played.

The next day, they lazed around, waiting until it was time to go to Sasha’s house. They left a little early, and got there on time, finding her almost immediately. People were coming in, and Historia wanted to put the cake down before going to talk to friends.

(Or just stay with Ymir. That was the best option here.)

“Happy birthday, Sasha!”

Sasha gaped at the cake in Historia’s hands.

“Is that… Nutella?”

She laughed, setting it on the table like Mikasa had told her.

“It is.”

Ymir, waiting behind her, said happy birthday to Sasha, and Sasha smiled in return.

“You’re Ymir, right? I think your brother’s here with Annie, there’s a Cards Against Humanity game going.”

“Cards Against Humanity? Aww, sweet, I love that game! Thanks.”

They left the room, avoiding people they didn’t know, and found the card game in the living room by the horrified laughter.

“Bertholdt!”

“Why!?”

“C’mon, man, you should have told me earlier!”

Bertholdt, blushing, took the black card from the middle of the table, laughing too hard to reply. Ymir and Historia sat down, Annie dealing them some, just watching the game now that there were more players.

“Reiner, your turn for judge. Good fucking luck.”

The black card Reiner set down was **The newest Rap Libs makes extensive use of the phrase “_____.”** Bertholdt, Ymir, and Historia considered their cards, laying them down in their own time.

The white cards, once they had been flipped over, were _Socks_ , _“WE UNDERSTAND ANIME FAN WANTS!!”_ , and _Ham?_.

Reiner just shook his head, staring at the cards. After a minute of the three staring at him, he tapped the _Ham?_ card.

“I’m imagining a song where it just repeats ‘ham’ over a beat. I hate this game.”

Historia judged next, and the black card was **I’m not like the rest of you. I’m too rich and busy for _______.**

Reiner laughed as soon as he read it, and placed a card down, waiting for Bertholdt and Ymir. They put their cards on the table, Ymir strangely silent.

Their cards were _Spending lots of money_ , _Survivor’s guilt_ , and _a Godzilla attack_.

Historia laughed with her hand over her mouth, eyes wide, pushing _Survivor’s guilt_ forward. Ymir smirked, taking the black card, the three of them drawing a new white card.

The game went on, and eventually, it attracted some new people. Jean and Marco came to join, Eren trailing behind them. Bertholdt and Reiner left, going off somewhere, possibly for food.

Historia had seven cards, one away from winning, Ymir, Eren, and Jean close behind her, Annie was judging for them.

The black card was **________. It’s a trap!**

Historia raised her eyebrows and laid down a card silently, watching the others’ faces as they tried to decide what to play.

Eren elbowed Jean, mock-whispering with a grin.

“I’m gonna beat your ass, just watch me.”

“Fuck you, Jaeger! I’m winning this awful game!”

They started hitting each other with their elbows, stopping only when Marco put a hand on Jean’s arm.

“Put down your cards, you guys. Please.”

They did so, and their reactions were mixed.

The white cards were _Chutzpah_ , _Samus Aran_ , _A big long pink ding dong penis_ , _half-assed foreplay_ , and _CHIIIIIIIN._

Annie’s shoulders shook with silent laughter, Marco smiled, Eren and Jean snickered, while Ymir and Historia remained silent, Ymir giving Historia an odd look.

Shaking her head, Annie picked up _A big long pink ding dong penis_ , and Historia shouted in joy.

“Yes!”

“Historia, _no_!”

Ymir looked at her in horror, as did the rest of their group but Annie.

 “Okay, you can’t play anymore. You’re too good at this.”

Historia sighed good-naturedly at them, nodding.

“Fine, you’re right…”

They started a new game, Bertholdt and Reiner back, Annie playing this time, and Historia sat next to Ymir, watching them yell at each other over their cards.

Historia had never associated herself with the idea of friends.

Friends were for those who could accept compliments without ripping them apart in their heads, friends were for those who could be genuinely happy on a daily basis.

She wasn’t one of them.

Looking around the table, at Jean, at Marco, at Bertholdt and Reiner and Annie, Historia felt disconnected. Like this wasn’t real. Why was she here? Why had she left the security of her room? No one here _liked_ her, they just put up with her to be kind, no one wanted her around-

And then she looked up at Ymir, and it got worse.

Why was Ymir here? Why did Ymir stick around, even though she was the one who had been there with the worst part of her? Who would want to stay after that?

Historia couldn’t breathe.

Pushing out her chair carefully, she stood up, trying to keep her hands steady, nudging Ymir.

“I- I need some air.”

Before Ymir could turn to respond, Historia was gone.

She found her way out of Sasha’s house, sitting down on some old crates against her house in the unkempt backyard.

The cool night air was gentle against her face, and a breeze picked up. Historia closed her eyes, breathing in deeply, grateful for the fresh air.

She could probably use some water too, but no way in hell was she going back in there right now-

“Historia.”

She opened her eyes, seeing Ymir standing in front of her, holding out a cup of water. There was worry in her face, watching Historia carefully.

She took the cup, drinking most of it at one time, sighing in relief.

And then, once again, she looked at Ymir.

She stood there, in the faint moonlight, eyes warm and steady, and Historia felt cared for. Ymir wanted her to be happy, and she didn’t get it.

Why did she deserve happiness?

She didn’t.

There were so many, so many people out there kinder sweeter braver friendlier **_better_** than her.

Why was Ymir even here?

Seeing the pain and the panic in Historia’s face, Ymir moved forward hesitantly, not knowing her boundaries. Hoping it was okay, she put a gentle hand over Historia’s, trying to get the smaller girl to look at her.

“Are you okay?”

She shook her head, keeping it down, unconsciously leaning towards Ymir’s touch.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Why are you here?”

Ymir’s train of thoughts stopped, startled. Did Historia not want her here?

“I’m sorry, what?”

Historia’s voice broke, still not looking at Ymir.

“Why are you here? Why do you care so much? Why do you care so much about me? Why are you wasting your time and energy on _me_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it starts feeling strange towards the end, and the ending feels weird, it's meant to.
> 
> Just a heads up, ch7, ch8, and possibly ch9 aren't gonna get any better. I promise, pinky promise, though that I'll give this at least a hopeful ending.
> 
> It would kill me not to.


	7. have you ever wanted to disappear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moment you've all been waiting for. 
> 
> And the aftermath.  
> aka where the scene in italics from the very beginning finally makes its appearance

“Historia.”

Ymir said her name, and she finally looked up at her. Warm amber eyes met Historia’s like so many times before, but this was different somehow. She moved closer, moving her hand to wrap an arm around Historia. 

And when Ymir kissed her, softly and gently, rough hand cupping her face, Historia relaxed, feeling like it was what should have been all along. Maybe what had been too, in a different world. She wound her arms around Ymir's neck, accidentally grazing it, and she gasped into Historia’s mouth.

For that one moment, wrapped in Ymir’s warmth, Historia didn’t feel so alone.

And then suddenly, her panic welled up inside her chest, and she broke their contact.

_This is going to ruin everything, absolutely everything, oh my god I don’t want to lose her, I can’t, I don’t-What if someone sees? What if the others saw us, what if my parents found out, oh my god I don’t even know what could happen, this is-_

Ymir tilted her face up, watching Historia with concern. Just seeing that emotion calmed her racing thoughts, but not enough.

“Ymir-“          

Ymir kissed her again before she could continue, drowning her words in affection.

 But Historia pulled away, blue eyes bright with panic.

 “No- I can’t-“

 “Can’t what, Historia? Can’t kiss me? Can’t accept that there might be more to life than what you have?”

 Ymir’s voice was surprisingly kind, cradling Historia’s face in her hands. Historia pushed her away, sliding off her perch, trying to not burst into tears.

“I have _enough_ , Ymir, I’m perfectly happy! I don’t deserve more!”

“You’re not perfectly anything, no one is! Come on, Historia, can’t you wake up a little? You’re so blinded by this idea of perfection you can’t look past it.”

“I’m expected to be perfect! Historia Reiss, cheerleader, four-point-oh GPA, tiny and adorable and happy! That is what people see, that’s what I am!”

They had started out talking softly, but by then Historia was lashing out, directing all her anger towards the world, towards herself, to Ymir.

Ymir was trying to stay calm, but her stubbornness was frustrating, and all she really wanted was for Historia to be happy.

“Dammit, Historia, you’re not a fucking Barbie doll! You’re _human_ , you’re allowed to have emotions and needs and wants and change your mind!”

Historia looked at her silently, and turned to leave. Ymir watched her go, slipping through Sasha’s backdoor. She didn’t follow for a few minutes, and when she did, all she wanted was to find her brother.

She did find him, and sat down, just wanting to go home and regret all of her life choices.

\--

The next morning, Bertholdt woke up slowly, hearing aggressive music from the room next to his. Was that- was that Fall Out Boy?

He slid out of bed, ruffling his hair and walking lightly around the corner to knock on his sister’s door.

“Ymir?”

He pushed it open, going into her room cautiously. She was lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling with a dark expression, and Bertholdt had been right.

She was listening to Fall Out Boy, music too loud for his taste. But he knew his sister.

She was trying to get the music louder than her thoughts.

Judging by her expression, it wasn’t working.

“Ymir…”

He sat on the end of her bed, trying to get her attention, but she ignored him.

“Please, sis, what’s wrong? You wouldn’t talk to me last night either.”

She closed her eyes, and he sighed.

“Is it Historia?”

Ymir sat up so quickly, Bertholdt heard her neck pop. She glared at him, and he was very, very afraid for her answer.

“Don’t. Just don’t.”

The anger in her eyes disappeared, and she slumped back, voice quiet.

“Sorry. I don’t want to talk, Bertl, I’m sorry. Is my music too loud?”

He watched her sadly, wishing for the thousandth time he could help his sister somehow.

“It’s okay, Ymir. No, you’re fine. Do you want anything?”

She shook her head, and he left the room, worry in his face.

Ymir had two habits when things were bad for her.

Bertholdt still remembered the days where he would wake up to find her sitting somewhere in the house curled around herself, staring at a wall, gaze empty.

He remembered the days when she would blast angry pop punk music from her room, and their mom would yell at her for having the volume too loud, and Ymir would yell back.

One time, he had asked her why she insisted on the volume so loud. She had looked at him, and Bertholdt was startled by the darkness in her eyes. Her voice was soft, so soft, when she told him she wanted the music to be louder than her thoughts.

He hadn’t known how to respond.

Soon after that, they learned just how sick their mom was, and Ymir got even less attention then she needed.

Bertholdt tried. But between trying to learn what she needed and trying to help their mom in any way he could, it didn’t work out.

But Ymir was still here. That was good, right?

\--

Ymir stared at her ceiling, hearing the music but not listening to it.

She fucked up.

She fucked up so badly.

Historia was so important to her, so important, and she _fucked it up_.

Of course she didn’t like her like that.

Why would she?

Ymir was just a scruffy kid with a dead mom and a distant dad who wanted to finish school.

What had happened to not making friends?

Historia had happened.

She had smiled at Ymir, even though she looked like she would have preferred to be anywhere else, and was kind.

And she was honest. Or at least tried to be.

In the theme of honesty, Ymir was drawn to her brokenness.

Like calls to like, that’s the saying, right?

Ymir recognized the worst parts of herself in Historia, and wanted desperately to help her. No one should have to feel like that. No one should have to feel alone.

But here she was, feeling like that, because she had tried to help.

What a cruel joke.

\--

A few hours later, Bertholdt looked in, seeing Ymir still staring up at her ceiling.

“You haven’t slept at all, have you?”

Ymir shook her head, and Bertholdt frowned, going into her room.

“Come on, you need to eat something, and shower too if you can manage it. Get out of bed.”

She slid off her bed, landing with a thump on the floor, still lying down.

Bertholdt sighed heavily.

Ymir, even when sad, was still a smartass.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. Get up and eat, and or shower, and then you can go back to bed. Sleep if you can.”

She turned her head to stare at him, and he stared back unflinchingly.

“And your homework. We have the same classes, I know what we have to do.”

She gave no response, and he sat down beside her, refusing to give up.

“I don’t know what happened, and you don’t have to talk about it, but you’re going to take care of yourself. If I have to shove you in the shower myself, I will. Please, Ymir.”

They looked at each other in silence, and then she sat up, voice sharp.

“Fine. What do we have to eat?”

“There’s some leftover pizza in the fridge.”

She dragged herself off the floor, and he followed, watching her take clean clothes out of her dresser, waiting until the bathroom door was shut and the water started to leave. He got their backpacks, getting out their homework and doing his own to pass the time.

While in the shower, Ymir didn’t feel any better.

It had been so long since she had had a _bad_ day, she had almost forgotten how it felt.

How did she even survive feeling like this?

Not wanting to have to look at her scars, Ymir just washed her hair, getting out of the shower and into her clean clothes, barely drying her hair before going into the kitchen and heating up leftover pizza.

Bertholdt sat at the table with their homework, doing his, and she sat next to him, trying to not eat too fast. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was.

And Bertl had made her get up.

Overwhelmed by thankfulness for her brother, she swallowed, and went to get a glass of water.

“Thank you.”

Bertholdt looked up at the sound of her quiet voice, smiling. He didn’t reply, she knew he had heard her.

She ate silently as he worked, and took her backpack from him when it was offered, finishing what  homework she had to do.

When they were both done, he looked over, trying to gauge her mood.

“You wanna watch your lesbian anime? Doesn’t a new episode come out every Friday?”

She raised her head when she heard his voice, and smiled at him.

It was the smallest of smiles, but it was still a smile.

“Yeah, it does. And I need to see last week’s too. You seriously want to watch it with me?”                        

He nodded, and her smile grew as she got up, going into her room and coming out with her laptop, glaring at the screen as it started up much too slowly for her taste. She sat down on the couch, Bertl following, throwing an arm around her shoulders.

They always liked to cuddle while watching anime, gangly frames wrapping around each other. There were numerous baby photos of them curled together throughout their childhoods, and though they had pretended to hate those pictures, they loved them.

Especially the ones with their mom in them.

It was no secret the twins missed their mother.

Who wouldn’t?

 But the key difference between them was that Bertholdt had done better than Ymir for years at dealing with his emotions.

Halfway through the episode, Ymir started crying. Bertholdt wasn’t surprised, as he had noticed her affectionately called “warning signs”- rubbing her lower arms, hugging herself, and most notably, trying to keep her breathing even.

He paused it, setting his head on hers with a sigh.

She just needed to cry herself out.

It was gonna be okay.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo if the beginning scene is kind of awkward I'm so so sorry I have never kissed anyone and I don't have much practice in writing it!! ヽ(*´Д｀*)ﾉ
> 
> I'm gonna say this now- Chapter 8 is gonna be hell. For me, and for you. If it takes me a little longer than normal to post it, I'm sorry.


	8. nobody said it would be easy / no one ever said it would be this hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a lot of pain, Historia comes to a realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyy rating went up.   
> Don't let that fool you.  
> This chapter is pure concentrated pain.

Historia wasn’t okay.

She stumbled into Sasha’s kitchen to get her things, interrupting Annie and Mikasa, talking about ….something. Historia couldn’t tell. She just wanted to get home.

“Woah, woah, Historia, where are you going?”

Mikasa caught her, carefully holding her upright, and Historia looked at her helplessly, shaking her head.

“I- I want to go home- I can’t do this-“

Mikasa traded glances with Annie, silent words bouncing between the two.

“Alright, did you drive here?”

Historia nodded, not trusting herself to open her mouth without bursting into tears.

“Sit down for just a minute, okay?”

She guided Historia gently, turning to Annie immediately after. Historia only caught bits of their hushed conversation, including a “Please, Annie” and “Do I have to?”

It seemed like Annie finally gave in, as Mikasa came back to Historia, trying to hide the concern in her face.

“Would you be alright with me driving you home? Annie can follow with hers, you won’t have to worry about me. I don’t want to let you drive like this.”

She just nodded, standing up and getting her keys, Mikasa and Annie right behind her.

Mikasa was mainly silent on their way to Historia’s, knowing the way from a few times before when she had dropped her off, but couldn’t stop herself from asking when they were about halfway there.

“Are you alright, Historia?”

Historia raised her head from the cool glass of the window, surprised.

“Well, I-“

“I don’t mean just tonight, I mean in general. Are you alright?”

Mikasa spared a second to look over at her, dark eyes full of concern.

Historia realized then, that maybe, she wasn’t as alone as she thought.

“No, not really, Mikasa, but thank you.”

Mikasa shot her a glance, surprised to hear the _truth_ out of Historia for once. She stayed quiet for a few more minutes, waiting until they were at Historia’s house to speak again.

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

Historia looked across at her, and smiled softly.

“I don’t think so.”

They both got out of her car, Annie pulling up behind them, and Mikasa stepped around to hug Historia, the much smaller girl leaning into her. She stayed to make sure Historia got in safely, and then opened the car door, sliding in.

“Thank you so much, Annie, I’m sorry I had to interrupt our time at Sasha’s. I just… I worry about her so much.”

Annie glanced at her girlfriend with a smile, driving away from Historia’s slowly.

“It’s alright, Mikasa.”

They listened to the radio for a little while, and then, at a red light, Annie tilted her head, staring out the windshield thoughtfully.

“You know, they- Historia and Ymir, kinda remind me of us before we started dating.”

Mikasa laughed, putting her hand on Annie’s leg, grateful for her.

\--

Historia barely made it down into her room without crying. Her mother stopped her on the way in, asking why she was home early, hadn’t she gone to a party? And Historia brushed her off with a shit excuse about not feeling well and going to go shower.

Shower? In her own tears, maybe. _Or with Ymir._

Historia shook her head, panicking at the thought.

Where did that come from?

She couldn’t let herself think that way.

Not about anyone, especially not her.

Turning the water on in the bathroom, she stripped her clothes off, the tears finally streaking her face, mascara running, eyeliner smudging.

Water hot enough to hurt slightly, she stepped into the shower, sitting down immediately with her head in her hands, water slowly seeping into her hair.

She cried like a fucking baby.

Desperate, harsh, sobs, the kind no one wants anyone to hear, the kind with various pathetic noises accompanying them.

She cried for so long, she didn’t know if the moisture on her face was tears or water from the shower. She didn’t know if she was still crying or not.

It was all just …too much.

Too much.

She was barely keeping up with school now, and things were just going to get harder as time passed. And then there was fucking college, and she was _so afraid_ of any possibility of change, getting to the school she wanted, not getting to the school she wanted, choosing a career, deciding _the rest of her life_ when she still felt like a child.

And honestly, cheer was just stressing her out more. Competitions, games, performing well, seeming likeable and-

Perfect.

She wanted to be perfect.

She wanted to be how other people saw her.

Ymir’s words hit her all over again, a fresh wave of sobs wracking her small frame.

She needed other people to value her. To say, “Look, there goes Historia Reiss, don’t you want to be just like her?”

She needed people to believe in her, even if that was belief in someone who was only surface-deep.

She just wanted to live up to everyone’s expectations.

That was all she had ever wanted.

And now it was way too late to change.

Thoughts blurring into each other from there, Historia cried to the point of feeling sick, sobs drowned out by the sound of the water.

Eventually crying herself out there on her shower’s floor, the water turned ice cold before she actually got up.

Too numb to think, she changed into the warmest, fluffiest pajamas she owned, and went to bed, not even bothering to dry her hair.

Unfortunately for poor Historia, sleep did not bring rest.

\--

_Soft lips pressed kisses to every inch of her face, occasionally dipping down to mouth at her neck, patient affection and a loving greeting waking Historia._

_“Morning, sunshine.”_

_Historia opened her eyes, Ymir smiling at her from a seated position beside the bed, elbows resting on the mattress._

_“Sleep well?”_

_Throat dry, Historia nodded, stretching out her hand to trace Ymir’s neck and shoulders, lingering on the mark in the dip of her collarbone. Ymir took her hand, lacing their fingers together as Historia asked the same question of her silently._

_“Course, always do next to you.”_

_Historia blushed, and Ymir unfolded, moving onto the bed so she could stretch out beside her sleepy girlfriend, looking at her bedhead with a sly smile, never failing to find it amusing._

_Shaking her head at Ymir, Historia rolled over to face her, noses touching. They looked at each other for a long while, Historia counting Ymir’s visible freckles, Ymir memorizing every imperfection in Historia’s skin._

_Bored of fruitless counting, Historia kissed her first, Ymir happily responding, closing their eyes and losing themselves in each other._

_Ymir ran her hand down along the curves of Historia’s body, sending a shiver up her spine. She stopped at the waist of her pajama bottoms, sliding into the dip where fabric and skin didn’t touch. In turn, Historia kissed the mark she had left on Ymir’s collarbone, lips tracing its shape._

_Ymir’s hand went down further, and Historia gasped into Ymir’s chest, bringing her own hands up to tangle in her hair. She dragged her fingertips along Ymir’s neck to hear her moan, biting back a smile to nip at Ymir’s shoulder instead._

_Knowing what she was doing, Ymir slowly got the reaction out of Historia she wanted, the blonde a trembling mess in her arms._

_Getting her breath back to normal, Historia tugged Ymir’s shirt off, kissing a path down her dark freckled skin, eventually pulling her sleep shorts off as well, licking and sucking and kissing her way to returning the favor, Ymir stuffing her hand in her mouth to keep quiet._

_Pleased with herself, Historia moved back up to kiss Ymir softly, a smile on her lips._

_Ymir suddenly turned serious, turning those steady eyes on Historia, a kind of tempered sadness in her gaze._

_“When this is all over, marry me?”_

\--

Historia woke with an ache in her body and in her mind, recalling every vivid detail of the dream.

She went through it in her head, trying to explain it away, trying to make it anything but what it was.

She was in love with Ymir.

Hopelessly, painfully in love with Ymir.

She rolled over, burying her face in her pillow, tears starting up again.

All her life, she was told by Disney movies and every fairy tale she heard and every book she ever read, that someday her prince would come to sweep her off her feet and they would live happily ever after.

But that’s not really how it works, is it?

Love doesn’t fix you. Love can’t heal the pain of a lifetime. Love doesn’t heal a broken bone or a broken mind.

Life is not the fairy tale it’s made out to be.

Historia felt _cheated_.

When she was young, she imagined herself at seventeen with the bestest of friends, the sweetest car in the whole neighborhood, every aspect of life sparkling and shining like nothing she had ever seen.

And here she was, crying into a pillow at what, ten AM, upon learning she was in love with a girl?

No one ever fucking told her it would be like this.

No one ever said it would be this hard.

\--

Before going upstairs, Historia went into her bathroom so she could try and look like an actual human being, still thinking about her revelation.

Maybe she wasn’t as straight as she thought she was, though her hair was pretty damn straight-

_Oh._

_Ohhhhhhhh._

_I get it now._

Finally understanding why Sasha and Mikasa and Annie muttered about her hair sometimes, she laughed.

(It wasn’t a good laugh.)

She dragged herself up the stairs, her parents seated at the table, eating breakfast. Her father noticed her first, smiling at her.

“Good morning, sleepyhead. If you’d like pancakes, they’re on the counter.”

Historia forced a cheerful reply, going into the kitchen.

“Morning, Dad. Thank you.”

She took three of the pancakes and sat down, putting syrup on them and eating, finally realizing how hungry she was. Her mother watched in disgust as Historia practically vacuumed them in, and stood up for more.

“Historia, how are you still hungry?”

She stopped mid-way to the kitchen, confused.

“What?”

“Isn’t three enough?”

Looking down at her empty plate, Historia visibly deflated, nodding.

“Yeah, um, I’m gonna rinse it off.”

“Then how about you take my plate too?”

Historia silently took it, avoiding eye contact.

“Oh, don’t be sullen!”

Trying to keep herself small, she took her father’s plate too, taking them into the kitchen, rinsing them and putting them in the dishwasher.

She was about to go downstairs when she heard her mother’s voice again.

“Historia?”

She turned, keeping her expression what she hoped was neutral.

“Yes?”

“Are you coming to church today?”

Historia opened her mouth to reply but paused, carefully considering her answer.

“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t get enough sleep last night. I’m going back to bed.”

Before her mother could go further, Historia went down the stairs, taking them two at a time to get to her room and close the door.

Her parents looked at each other, her father sighing as her mother raised her eyebrows.

“What is wrong with yourdaughter?”

Her father shrugged.

Downstairs, Historia flopped onto her bed, face in a pillow, taking a deep breath in and stiffening.

It smelled like cinnamon.

Ymir’s pillow.

Historia sighed, rolling over and wrapping herself in her comforter.

But that smelled like Ymir too.

She just couldn’t handle it right now.

Historia got up, took a blanket out of her closet, pulled her pillow off of her bed, and settled down on the floor, curling up.

It was just too complicated.

While trying to fall asleep, she absently wondered about something.

Why was there no magic button to press to just like, stop time for two weeks so you could catch up on life?

She just wanted the thoughts in her head, the events going on around her, and time to _stop_.

That’s all.

Her mind drifted back to Ymir, remembering how tenderly she treated Historia, how gentle she was with her.

Why?

You know, she had never answered the damn question.


	9. i woke up it was seven \ i waited til eleven just to figure out that no one would call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Historia's afraid.  
> Ymir's afraid.   
> Can't they just get over themselves already?  
> Or, a lot of questions, and not a whole lot of answers.

Historia slept until early that afternoon.

When she woke up, there on her floor, she didn’t understand.

Why was she on the floor?

Where was Ymir?

She remembered very quickly.

“Historia?”

Her father knocked on the door, and she sat up.

“You can come in.”

He opened the door, and she smiled hesitantly, a little afraid of what he might be talking to her for.

“What’s up?”

He sat on the edge of her bed as she looked up at him and shifted anxiously.

“Dad?”

“How are you, Historia? We haven’t talked much and I just… I worry about you.”

She sat on her hands, smiling bitterly, but tried to keep it out of her voice.

“I’m… It’s alright, Dad. I could be better, but it’s okay. School is stressing me out, so is cheer, this is pretty normal.”

He nodded, getting up and pausing before he left her room.

“Do your homework, okay? Even if you don’t go to school tomorrow.”

She gave him a quick “yeah, Dad” and pulled herself up, going over to her backpack.

School meant Ymir.

That was usually a good thing.

But would Ymir even want to see her?

\--

Ymir sighed, almost sullen.

Who was she kidding?

She was sulking.

It was her fault in the first place, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be a sullen teenager over it.

Would it be worth trying to see Historia?

“Fuck it all,” Ymir groaned into her pillow.

 “I don’t even know if she’s straight or not.”

\--

Historia worried about it all night.

Did Ymir really like her like that?

Why would she?

Why hadn’t she answered her question?

Should she go to school tomorrow?

She answered her own question by falling asleep so late it was useless even thinking about going to school.

\--

Bertholdt woke Ymir up a little early, knowing it would take a while.

“Ymir. Wake up. Come on. _Ymir_.”

She slept on, ignoring him.

“Ymiiiiiiir.”

Tired of waiting for her, he ripped the blankets off her bed, and the rush of cool air woke her.

“Wha- What? Bertholdt, what the fuck?”

She turned to glare at him, his face barely visible in the dusky morning light through her shades, and he remained passive.

“I love you, Ymir, but I don’t want to leave you alone. Are you going to school, or what?”

She stared at him, and sighed.

“Go get learnt, bitch, don’t worry about me.”

He raised an eyebrow, and she laughed.

“Kidding. Um, no, I don’t…”

She trailed off, feeling weighed down at even the thought of going to school, and looked up to meet his gaze.

“I don’t think I can do it today, Bertl.”

He nodded, moving forward to hug her.

Ymir loved her brother’s hugs.

He was warm and felt strong and she knew he meant it when he said he loved her.

Bertholdt had always been there for her, and he always would be.

Even when she was lying in bed angsting over a stupid fucking crush.

\--

Historia woke up at seven, looking around in momentary confusion.

Why was she even awake?

Her parents hadn’t left yet, by the soft sounds coming from upstairs, she couldn’t do anything around the house till they were gone, so why had her brain woken her up?

It had to be some fucked up internal clock.

She rolled off of her bed (she had slept at the opposite end, where it didn’t smell like Ymir) and went into her bathroom, walking around lazily.

She wondered if Ymir was at school.

\--

Ymir wandered around her kitchen, trying to decide what to eat.

Ugh, she hated staying home from school.

It just meant time alone with her thoughts, and for her, that wasn’t a good thing.

Giving up on magically appearing food in the fridge, she went back to her room, curling up on her bed and turning some mellow music on.

She stared at the blank display of her phone, hoping for a text or a call from Historia to appear.

For all her crushes, Ymir had actually never gotten this far before.

What was normal protocol after kissing someone and then yelling at each other?

She didn’t fucking know, and was too afraid to find out.

\--

Historia sat on the floor, staring at her phone.

She wanted Ymir to text her.

She wanted Ymir back.

_So what are you gonna fuckin do about it?_

Historia sighed, tossing her phone away from her, onto the rug.

She didn’t know what she was gonna do.

Watch shows and movies on Netflix turned out to be her answer.

It didn’t help her at all.

\--

Ymir tried everything she knew to feel human again.

(Well, almost everything.)

She took a shower, she made herself ramen, she watched her absolute favorite episode of an anime she loved, she made a nest in her warmest and softest blankets, _shit,_ she even used some lotion on her hands and feet!

Nothing helped.

Absently channel-surfing, she almost cried when she saw the time.

Only ten thirty?

Seriously?

This day was a fucking nightmare.

\--

Historia stared at her closet, as if it would give her an answer.

To go see Ymir, or to not go see Ymir?

_That_ was the question.

Getting up, she pushed open the door, browsing through its contents.

What was that in the back, on the floor?

Stepping closer hesitantly, momentary thoughts of something stupid and supernatural happening filling her head, she reached down and picked it up.

It was her favorite shirt.

Soft, grey, and long-sleeved, she had worn it to make herself feel a little happier on bad days, but she hadn’t seen it in forever.

Pulling her oversized pajama shirt off, she slid into it, a slight smile on her face.

She had missed this shirt.

Stepping out of her closet, checking the time on her phone, the smile grew.

She was gonna go see Ymir.

Turning away and slamming the door, she grabbed her keys and ran up the stairs.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me you caught the Frozen reference in the last line, in lieu of a closet joke.


	10. blind faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These girls are very in love with each other.  
> And have finally admitted it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for _past_ self-harm. I hope I handled it well, because I've never, only wanted to.  
>  As for the next few chapters, ch11 is going to be cute, but heading downhill, and ch12 and 13 are gonna be rough. From there? Not sure.

It was eleven thirty when Ymir opened her door for Historia, expecting anyone but the small blonde.

Historia, a burst of courage fueling her actions, smiled up at her hesitantly.

“Hey, Ymir.”

Ymir stared at her, unable to think.

“….Can I come in? I wanted to talk.”

She stepped aside for her, and Historia went in, starting to rub the cuff of her sleeve anxiously. Following Ymir’s lead, they sat down on the couch, facing each other.

Ymir, finally thinking again, was panicking.

Historia, losing her confidence, was panicking.

“Fucking shit, Historia, I’m really sorry-“

“I’m sorry-“           

They stopped to listen to each other, confused. Ymir waited for Historia, trying to figure out why she would be sorry.

“Ymir, why would you be sorry?”

She looked at her, Historia shifting closer.

“It was completely unokay of me to do that, I mean, I don’t even know if you’re into girls or not, it was rude and I should have listened to you, I just, it was the only way I could think of to tell you-“

Historia leaned forward and kissed Ymir, her words dying in surprise.

Not wanting to make her uncomfortable, Historia pulled back just a little, looking at Ymir shyly.

“See, now we’re even.”

Ymir blushed, staring at her. Historia just smiled, taking her hand gently.

“I’m sorry for not listening to you, because you’re right.”

Ymir listened, watching Historia with bright eyes.

“I’m not perfectly happy, I’m not perfect. I… I just want to be, _so much_ that I try to delude myself- and everyone else- into thinking it. And it ends up hurting me, I hurt so much.”

A smile grew on Ymir’s face as she listened, touching Historia’s arm as a gentle comfort. But, Historia flushed and looked away when she saw her smile.

Maybe she could recognize some of her problems, but she still couldn’t believe someone could look at her with that much affection.

“And I guess… I know I something’s not alright in my head, and I don’t know what it is, but I know being around you helps distract me from it. It doesn’t fix it, but it helps. And that’s more than anything has ever done.”

Ymir brushed Historia’s hair back from her face.

She slowly lifted her gaze from the floor to Ymir’s eyes, seeing nothing but happiness and a soft, pure love.

“Do you have any idea how happy I am to hear that? I mean, it goes further, it’s not even about me, it’s that I want you to feel loved and happy and safe.”

“But why? _Why_ , Ymir? I’m admitting you’re right, but I still want to know.”

Ymir tilted her head, staring at Historia. Historia stared back, genuine curiosity in her face.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Historia opened her mouth, but Ymir stopped her, closing the last inch between them. They sat knee-to-knee, their legs folded crisscross-applesauce like they were children again.

“Because, Historia. You are the most amazing person I have ever met. You smile, and say hello, and do things for people, even though you’re in pain, and I’ve only known one other person to do that. I think it’s a damn fucking miracle you’re so kind and patient with everyone. You get up, and pretend everything is okay, and I can’t even begin to imagine the kind of strength that takes. And in my experience-“

Historia was crying, overwhelmed by her words. Ymir touched her cheek, brushing a few tears away, continuing with her sentence.

“In the few months I’ve known you, you’ve only given up on pretending a couple of times. I don’t know how you do it. But I hate it, I hate that you feel like you don’t deserve to feel sad, I hate that you don’t think you’re as amazing as I think you are. I care about you so much, so much, Historia. I want you to be happy because I know how you feel, I’ve been there, I still kinda am, and someone like you doesn’t deserve it.”

Historia’s tears only increased, Ymir pulling her forward and holding her through it, telling her softly that it was true, all of it was true, would she lie to her?

“No- you wouldn’t, you really wouldn’t, oh my god, Ymir, I love you, I love you so much-“

She buried her face in Ymir’s shirt, terrified now that she had said it out loud.

“I love you too, Historia, I- I really love you-“

The two girls cried together over everything that had happened to them, everything they had to face now and the days ahead.

It was gonna be really hard, it was always gonna be hard no matter what, and they knew that.

But having another person, one who genuinely loved you, through their own choice, having someone like that there with them made the hurt a little less.

\--

They didn’t really know who started it.

Did Historia kiss Ymir first after that, or was it the other way around?

They didn’t know.

Or care.

But Historia was in Ymir’s lap, and there was no time for thinking, not while there was kissing and tugging and biting and _each other_.

It was almost surprising how fast they learned how to treat each other, how Ymir _really_ liked it when Historia touched the back of her neck, or that Historia seemed to be ticklish… everywhere.

It was pretty hilarious, Ymir wasn’t gonna lie.

But when Historia slid her hands underneath the fabric of Ymir’s shirt, starting to pull it up, Ymir pulled away from Historia with the wrong kind of sound.

Historia slowed immediately, settling her hands on Ymir’s hips, looking up at her with uncertainty.

“Sorry, sorry, Ymir, is everything okay?”

Ymir watched Historia’s face, the love there, and knew if she said the word, Historia would let it go.

In a moment, Ymir made her decision. Kissing Historia once more, she took her hand and got up, feeling for her phone in her pants pocket.

“Come on.”

Hand in hand, they went to Ymir’s room, Historia glancing at Ymir worriedly, but trusting her with whatever they were doing.

She had so much faith in Ymir.

Off to the side, Ymir tapped out messages to Berholdt, smirking slightly.

[Ymir: Historias here]

 [Ymir: If u come in my room im ripping ur face off]

 Getting into her room, Ymir set her phone down, Historia sitting down on her unmade bed, unconsciously mirroring the way they had sat earlier.

 But it was about Ymir now, and something was off.

 She settled down across from Historia, biting her lip and trying to breathe.

 “Ymir. Whatever it is, it’s okay. I’m here.”

 She set a gentle hand on Ymir’s, trying to give her some support.

 Ymir pulled her shirt off, just a ratty sports bra underneath, and she stared at the floor.

 Her arms were covered in fading scars.

She took a shaky breath, aware of Historia’s eyes on her.

 “I did it because I hated myself, and now I hate myself because of it. What a shitty paradox, huh?”

 Historia took her hands, lightly squeezing them, and got Ymir to meet her gaze. They sat in silence, and then Historia closed the gap between them, tugging on her hand.

 “Can I?”

 “If you’re talking about the scars, no. Don’t fucking touch them. Don’t try and make this into something beautiful, because it _isn’t_.”

 Historia nodded and kissed her more fiercely then she expected, pressing open-mouthed kisses along her jaw, breathing out words in between.

 “I understand. I just wish I could have been there for you. I love you.”

 Ymir kissed the top of her blonde head, closing her eyes and letting Historia move into her lap. She set her head on Ymir’s shoulder and wished that if she just got close enough, Ymir would know how strongly she felt.

 They slept the day away curled together in Ymir’s bed, too wrapped up in warmth and safety and each other to worry about anything else.

 

 


	11. if being afraid is a crime we hang side by side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They get their happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sometime before March, my dumb fic hit 1000 views, and I am so grateful for everyone who reads this. I love you all very much.  
> Apologies for the wait, I had some problems with this chapter. But I have plenty of ideas for the next few, and I've already started on ch12, so this shouldn't happen again. Here you go, Remmy.

Around three, they heard Bertholdt come in, but he followed Ymir’s warning and stayed out of her room. He left soon afterwards too, and Historia blinked sleepily at Ymir, getting a shrug in response. She pressed closer to her, wanting to never leave her bed again, as long as it had Historia in it. It was warm and safe and comfortable here, and they had each other.

Historia pressed a kiss to Ymir’s collarbone, looking at all her freckles fondly.

“Hey, if we go get my school stuff, can I spend the night?”

Setting her chin on Historia’s head, Ymir smiled.

“Course. Now or later?”

Historia hummed, sitting up and tugging Ymir with her.

“Now. I don’t wanna have to talk to my parents.”

They found their respective clothing, and got in Historia’s car, looking more at each other than where they were going.

The radio was background noise when Historia finally asked Ymir a question.

“Earlier… You said, you’ve only known one other person to do things for others even when they’re in pain. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, it’s okay, just… Who is that?”

Historia glanced at Ymir, desperately hoping her question wouldn’t upset her.

Ymir collected her thoughts, and smiled.

“My mom. She, wow, she was amazing. I mean, I hated her sometimes, but she just never gave up on anything. I mean, she had me and Bertl pretty young, then our asshole dad ditched her, and she managed for years mostly on her own. And then… well, she deserved a lot more than what she got. I’m sorry if I never talk about her, Historia, it’s not that I don’t want to tell you, it’s that it hurts too much. I will be able to someday, I promise.”

Historia nodded, taking one of her hands off the wheel and putting it over Ymir’s.

They got to her house a few minutes after that, quiet, but it was a comfortable quiet. Leaving the car and unlocking the front door, Historia waited at the doorway, holding her hand out for Ymir. She took it, the two girls going inside the silent house together.

The first thing Historia saw was the photos along the wall.

Most of them were of her, being the only child, and she stopped and stared.

There wasn’t a single photo in which her perfect beautiful smile was genuine.

She remembered most of them, actually. In the rare moments her parents were around, they made her pose for photos while doing something she didn’t even like, except for the ones where she was cheering.

_That girl is so fake, she’s not even there._

She struggled for breath, overwhelmed by anxiety and fear and irrationalities.

Ymir watched her with growing concern, gently squeezing her hand and waiting for a response. When there was none, Ymir stepped in front of her, using her free hand to lift her head, moving her gaze to Ymir’s face.

“Historia?”

She stared at Ymir blankly, so enveloped in her thoughts that she barely heard her.

“It’s alright, you’re okay, come here-“

“No, no, I’m, I’m fine, Ymir, please don’t.”

Instead of pulling her forward and hugging her, Ymir stepped back, and would have let go of her hand if she hadn’t held on.

“Sorry. I’ll try to remember that.”

Flashing an absent smile at Ymir, Historia headed downstairs, Ymir following.

“Can you grab my stuff from the bathroom? Oh, and the glasses too, please.”

“Sure.”

Getting some clothes out of her drawers and shoving them in a bag, Historia turned back around to grab her pillow and her backpack as Ymir waited in the doorway.

“Glasses?”

She blushed, taking everything from her and putting it in the bag, taking her hand again.

“Reading glasses. I only use them at home cause I’m afraid I’ll lose them at school. And you know, I might get made fun of.”

Letting Ymir carry one of her bags, they left, Historia careful to avoid looking at the photos on the wall.

In the car, they sang along to the radio, smiling at each other.

It was nice to feel like there was a possibility for peace with someone.

When they got back to Ymir’s, Historia breathed out a sigh of relief, the tiniest smile on her lips.

She didn’t know why, but this apartment felt like home. Like it could be home. Nothing like her house, it looked and felt like it was lived in, more than just a color-schemed, carefully designed, shell.

She felt so comfortable here, and it was a strange feeling.

They curled on the couch, paying more attention to each other than the TV, eventually getting hungry.

Ymir offered to order something for delivery, but Historia wanted to actually make something, and so they managed to cook an array of breakfast foods in the tiny kitchen, moving around each other so naturally it felt like that was what had always been.

Historia had insisted on music, and Ymir put some playlist on, laughing at Historia when she started sliding around in her socks to the beat, unable to resist spinning her around like they were in some old romance musical.

Historia slipped, and Ymir _just barely_ caught her, kissing the tip of her nose while she caught her breath. They spoke in low tones, focused on each other’s faces.

“Caught you.”

“Yeah, you did.”

Ymir carefully pulled her up and they stood together in the kitchen, content to be together.

They went back to the couch to eat, setting their plates aside when finished, Historia curling in Ymir’s lap, head on her chest.

“Hey, Ymir?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t care when, but can I shower? And um, if you don’t mind, I don’t mind if we shower together.”

Ymir was quiet for a few seconds, breathing in the scent of Historia’s hair (roses, the girl smelled like _roses_ , how dare she) and trying to clamp down the voice in the back of her mind.

Fuck that noise. Historia cared about her, Historia was comfortable with her, and that was all that mattered right now.

Realizing she had left Historia hanging, she held her tighter, pressing her forehead to her hair.

“Of course. Now or later?”

Historia smiled, getting out of Ymir’s lap and offered her hand.

“Now, please, my hair takes forever to dry.”

 

Ymir led her to the bathroom, closing the door behind them and turning the water on.  She ran a brush through her hair as Historia shed her clothes without any hesitation. She got in, and when the hot water hit Historia’s skin, she straight up _moaned_.

“Ymiiiiiiir. I’m moving in, your shower is incredible.”

Ymir laughed, taking in a deep breath as she took off her clothes, following Historia.

She laughed even harder when she saw her, face tilted up to the water, eyes closed, absolute bliss in her expression. There was no real anger in her words, voice soft and slow.

“Shut up. Showers are amazing.”

A smile still on her face, Ymir uncapped her shampoo bottle, putting some in her hands and gently taking Historia’s wet hair, Historia sighing in contentment at the feeling of Ymir’s hands in her hair.

“Your… your shampoo smells like cinnamon. I love it.”

Ymir smiled, putting some more into her hand for her own hair, gently rinsing Historia’s.

A few minutes later, Ymir was using her conditioner, when suddenly Historia tip-toed, replacing Ymir’s hands with her own, spiking Ymir’s short hair with a sly smile. Ymir let her, waiting patiently to get back to what she was doing.

Historia seemed satisfied, giggling as she stared at her masterpiece.

Ymir just rolled her eyes.

When they got out, she got the towels and a comb, and they dried off in peace.

And then, looking at each other in the warmth of her bathroom, something occurred to them.

It would kill them to hide this, and it would kill them to not hide it.

They eventually went to sleep, knowing that tomorrow would _suck_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact historia's reaction to ymir trying to hug her is entirely based off of me cause one time i had to yell at my best friend bc i AM SO PANICKY RIGHT NOW DONT FUCKING TOUCH ME JUST HOLD MY HAND OKAY


	12. I meant everything I said that night I will come back to life But only for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life has set up a bad day for Ymir.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of, oh, around 3 am on Sunday, I know how this ends, and I know how it's getting there. You should expect about seventeen chapters total, so five more, and you guys, I am so incredibly excited. 
> 
> That so does not mean I'm done with this universe. Far from it. I may write something about Ymir, there's at least eight extra fics planned, so I doubt I'll be truly done for a while. I can't wait for you to see the ending!
> 
> You may have noticed most of the chapter titles are song lyrics! Well, now that I have the rest planned out, [here](http://8tracks.com/rosesandcinnamon/all-she-could-be-1) is the official playlist! There are three songs that aren't right, but 8tracks's system is literally from the pits of hell, so there's not much I can do.

 

Historia’s alarm on her phone went off early, and she was about to get out of bed when Ymir rolled over, wrapping an arm around her.

“S’okay, you don’t need to get up until mine goes off.”

“Right.”

Historia slipped back underneath the blankets and nestled into Ymir’s warmth. They laid there, tangled together, dreading the day ahead of them. Absently stroking her hair, Ymir finally asked Historia a question.

“Why did you react so calmly? About, um, you know. No one ever does that.”

She thought it over, looking at Ymir’s freckled face in the soft golden light from her window.

“Because it’s not about me. Because I wasn’t going to betray your trust. I mean, it was obvious you were unsure about telling me, so… I’m not gonna yell at you over something I can’t control.”

“Thank you.”

Ymir’s alarm went off and Historia sat up, accidentally dislodging Ymir. She slipped, her head falling into Historia’s lap. She brushed back Ymir’s hair, smiling softly.

“Come on, we have to get up.”

Ymir curled her arms around Historia’s legs, nuzzling her knees.

“No. I don’t wanna.”

She sighed, so tempted to just lie back down, curl up with Ymir, and not do anything ever again.

But they really needed to get up. She gently pulled Ymir’s hands off her legs, sliding off the bed before Ymir could react. Kneeling by her bed, she poked her face.

“Ymir. Please?”

Ymir opened her eyes, seeing Historia’s face, so petulant.

“Fiiiiineeee.”

She dragged herself out of bed, shaking her head at Historia when she left the room with her bag, telling Ymir with a smile that “I’m taking the bathroom first.”

She realized, a few moments later, that Historia did that to give her some privacy.

Damn, she was such a kind person.

Ymir went over to her dresser, pulling out a shirt and jeans, pulling her pajamas off and tossing them into the laundry basket across the room.

Her eyes fell on a photo frame on the wall, and all thought stopped.

The photo was of Ymir, Bertholdt, and a woman, one who looked just like them.

The twins and their mother were sitting on a blanket in front of a wide-trunked tree, smiles wide, small patches of light shining through the tree’s leaves. Ymir and Bertl looked about twelve, gangly frames not quite sure of themselves yet, teeth a little crooked, sense of style maybe a little embarrassing in hindsight, but they looked so _happy_.

Ymir remembered that photo.

It was summer vacation, the summer before their mom got sick, and they went to her hometown. She showed them all the places she hung out with her friends when she was young, and that photo from was a park they spent an entire day near, at the library, down by the river, just enjoying the summer sunshine.

(Their mom had cried a lot during that trip.)

(Ymir almost understood now.)

They had stopped by a tree, their mom lying down on the grass and staring up at the canopy of leaves with a small smile. Ymir and Bertholdt joined her, and when she started telling stories, they all sat up.

The park had been mostly empty, but a few people were wandering through, and one man paused to talk to them, apparently recognizing Ymir’s mother.

They chatted for what felt like hours, before he pulled out a camera, asking if he could take a picture, since all their old friends wanted to know what she was up to.

She agreed happily, and Ymir and Bertholdt, in true teenage fashion, pretended to be unhappy about it.

Really, this was the happiest they’d ever seen their mother. They just wanted to make it last.

A month later, once they were back at home, they received copies of the photo in the mail, and the twins were grateful to their mother’s old friend. He had given them a piece of that happiness, and they had no idea how important that would be in the coming months. Years, even.

Ymir slowly slid into her jeans, stumbling over the hem as she reached for her phone. She pressed a button, lighting up the screen, and made a small, vaguely pathetic noise when she saw the date.

It had really been a year.

Putting her shirt on, Ymir slowly sunk to the floor, head in her hands.

When Historia hesitantly came in, she touched Ymir’s shoulder gently. She sucked a deep breath in and got up, forcing a smile for Historia, knowing she would see through it. Leaving the room without a word, she bumped into Bertl as soon as she stepped out. They looked at each other, and he pulled her closer for a hug. Ymir allowed it, and he let go first.

He smiled at her, and she shrugged in return. She slipped into the bathroom, closing the door softly. Historia came out of her room, looking to Bertholdt with a touch of anxiety. His voice was quiet, and her mouth opened in surprise and understanding when he told her.

“As of today it’s been a year since our mom died.”

\--

Ymir was really, really quiet.

She gave half-hearted smiles to whatever Historia said, only speaking when absolutely necessary.

Historia let her be, staying as close as possible, trying to somehow tell Ymir how she felt through soft touches.

Ymir noticed, and was grateful.

But her mind was clouded over by a hazy, all-consuming sadness.

She missed her mom.

She missed her mom so fucking much.

She missed her patience, she missed her cooking, she missed the barely angry way she yelled at Ymir and Bertl about their shoes all over the place, she missed the nights when they sat on their old couch and watched TV in a pile.

She wanted it back.

\--

Historia pulled Ymir into a corner after eighth period, stretching up to put her forehead against hers, gentle hands on her shoulders.

“Do you want me to drop you guys off or stay?”

Ymir held her tighter, closing her eyes with a small, but genuine, smile.

“Please, stay.”

Historia kissed her quickly, taking her hand. They found Bertholdt soon after (it wasn’t all that hard to find him in the crowded hallway, you just had to look above everyone’s heads), and went home, glad to get away from school.

\--

They laid underneath the covers of Ymir’s bed, lost in their own thoughts, tracing absent patterns on each other’s backs.

“Ymir?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry, I just- everything you said, last night, you meant it?”

Ymir carefully sat up, pulling Historia with her. They looked at each other for a quiet moment, Ymir holding her face.

“I meant it. I mean it. You have no idea how much you mean to me, Historia, and I’m sorry I wasn’t the greatest today.”

Ymir watched Historia closely, and realized that she hadn’t had a good day either.

Shit, she had gotten so enveloped in her own thoughts that she hadn’t noticed.

“Historia- fuck, I’m really sorry-“

Historia shifted closer, arms around Ymir.

“It isn’t your fault. I just needed to hear you say it.”

“I could say everything I did and more a thousand times over and mean every single word.”

She blushed, resting her head in the curve of Ymir’s shoulder. Her voice was quiet, but to Ymir, it was strong and clear.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Me too.”

Curled up together, Historia and Ymir were quiet together for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More housekeeping: My tumblr is roses-and-cinnamon, I post ACSB chapters there too, and my tag is fic: all she could be


	13. I'm left with nothing to say with my heart on my sleeve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ymir doesn't really like old photos. It reminds her of when things were worse.

 “Historia, please, I need to get up.”

Historia sighed sleepily, wrapping herself more tightly around Ymir.

Well, this was a situation.

She needed to pee so bad.

Ymir picked the smaller girl up, supporting her legs, and got up. She turned to put her back down, not going to interrupt her nap, but Historia clung to her, and Ymir poked her side.

“Are you _actually_ a five-year-old?”

“Yeeeeeesssss.”

Ymir laughed, switching arms to keep her up, and brushed back her hair.

“Cmon, Historia.”

“No.”

“Fine!”

Ymir walked out of her room, her arms getting tired, and she went into the living room where Bertholdt was watching TV.

She dropped Historia on the couch, snickering when she bounced a little. Bertl looked at her and she shrugged, leaving for the bathroom without a word.

Historia opened her eyes, displeased at the sudden lack of warmth, and more importantly, lack of Ymir. She was surprised to see Bertholdt staring at her with a strange expression.

“Ymir must feel really comfortable with you. Some days she won’t even let me touch her.”

She smiled and stretched, unaware she was so close to the edge of the couch, and almost fell. She caught herself on the edge of the coffee table, noticing a thick photo album. She took it as she sat up, looking to Bertl.

“Can I look through this?”

“Sure.”

She opened it to find a proper scrapbook, patterned papers serving as backgrounds, photos, and little keepsakes in between laminated pages.

The first few photos were of a couple, Historia recognizing parts of the twins’ faces in theirs. Bertholdt tapped one of them, a wistfulness in his eyes.

“Mom and Dad on their wedding night.”

Their dad looked sullen, their mom smiling at him, and Historia laughed.

“Ymir makes that face.”

He snorted, flipping the page-

To _baby photos_.

Historia squealed in delight, slapping Bertl’s hand as he tried to skip over them.

“Oh my god, you guys were so cute!”

(They really were. Chubby cheeks and wide eyes and dark tufts of hair and all.)

Bertholdt covered his face, sighing.

“Ymir is gonna _kill_ me.”

“For what?”

Ymir came up behind them, gasping when she saw the scrapbook.

“Historia, no!”

“Historia, yes!”

Ymir reached for it, Historia giggling and scooting out of her reach. Ymir glared at Bertholdt, obviously trying to keep his laughter in.

“You asshole!”

Historia tried to slip away unnoticed, but only got off the couch before Ymir caught sight of her. She made a dash down the hallway, accidentally trapping herself in a corner. Ymir pressed up to her, smirking, and Historia’s breath caught in her throat.

 _Fuck_ , Ymir was so incredibly attractive.

Before Ymir could, Historia closed the remaining distance between them, meeting Ymir’s lips with her own, bringing her hands up to tangle in her hair.

They continued like that for several minutes, scrapbook forgotten on the floor.

And then Bertholdt threw a pillow, shrieking at them to “Get a room!”

Ymir took Historia’s hand, picking up the scrapbook, going inside her room. They fell on her bed, laughing and still kissing.

This was all Ymir wanted, ever wanted, Historia’s mouth on hers, hands in her hair, occasionally brushing against her neck, soft curves pressing against  her, she loved it, she loved _Historia_.

But she couldn’t help her insecurity when Historia’s hands started to wander.

“Nn- stop.”

Historia immediately slowed, looking up at Ymir with those blue eyes.

“Everything okay?”

“Y-yeah, I just…”

Historia sat up, kissing her cheek, not demanding any further explanation.  Ymir, grateful for it, remained lying down, resting her head against her thigh, Historia setting a gentle hand on her head and picking up the scrapbook with the other.

She flipped through it quietly, eyes wandering over the pages, looking at the slow progress of Ymir and Bertholdt’s growth, noticing that after a certain point, their dad was completely absent from all the photos. She broke the silence with stifled laughter, and Ymir looked over, placing her leg on Historia’s, sighing loudly when she saw the cause of Historia’s amusement.

“Noooo…”

“You were so _cute_!”

The picture Historia was focused on was of an angry Ymir, arms crossed, dark eyes furious, a grinning Bertl holding her mouth open to reveal a set of braces matching those on his teeth.

“Burn it.”

“No. And by the way, you are still really really cute.”

Historia kissed her nose, and Ymir grumbled in response, watching Historia turn the page. The small smile fell as she recognized the photos.

She didn’t like them.

No matter the setting, she refused a smile, corners of her mouth turned down, and in the rare one where she was forcing a smile, it was brittle and fake, nothing like the smiles Historia knew.

Slowly, the overall feeling of the photos changed. Bertholdt gained a worried expression, always glancing off to the side, watching either Ymir or their mom. Their mom looked frailer, in front of the camera instead of behind it, but her eyes were bright. And Ymir slowly took over the camera, her presence in the photos disappearing.

Historia kept going, gently stroking Ymir’s hair, looking at photos of almost everything. Christmases, summers, birthdays, little events deemed important enough to be remembered.

The photos stopped with a picture of Ymir and Bertl’s sixteenth birthday, Ymir barely looking at the camera, a small, hardly genuine, smile on her face, Bertholdt’s arm around her.

She flipped through the blank pages, eventually setting it down and moving over so Ymir’s head was in her lap, looking down at her with kind eyes.

Ymir didn’t like being reminded of those days. She wanted to forget it, to leave it behind. She had never wanted to be the sad kid.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“You wanna hear about it?”

Historia sighed at her, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear with a gentle touch.

“Of course I do.”

\-------------------------  


The blaring sound of her alarm, or her brother’s, didn’t wake her.

She was woken by her brother gently shaking her, blankets on the floor, watching her with that worried face.

She remembered the days when there was no trace of worry in his eyes.

“Ymir, please, wake up. You know Dad’s gonna be pissed if we’re running late.”

Sliding off her bed, Ymir blinked the sleep out of her eyes. She thanked Bertholdt before going into the bathroom, absently brushing her teeth and wishing she could just sleep forever.

That would be nice.

Or at least it would be better than being awake.

-

She was a ghost in the hallways, dark clothes blending into everyone else, following the flow of the crowd and only fighting it when absolutely necessary.

The only classes where she talked where those she had her brother in, and those where a teacher made her.

Ymir was slightly aware of the glances people gave her, the quick looks weighted with wariness and confusion.

She didn’t really care.

She wouldn’t be here long anyway, why care what people thought?

\--

After school, their dad picked them up and they went to see their mom.

As had become habit, Ymir shadowed Bertholdt, staying in his footsteps to ease her own anxiety.

Their mom was asleep, and Ymir stood behind Bertholdt as he wrote a quick note to let her know they had been by to see her, but were going to let her sleep, and would see her tomorrow.

Ymir watched the rise and fall of her mom’s chest, eyelashes fluttering in response to a dream. Trying to keep her emotion pushed down, she kissed her cheek before they left, forcing herself to avoid thinking about the inevitable.

\--

Their dad made dinner, Ymir and Bertholdt doing their homework on the table, and the evening progressed as normal.

Finally, finally, it was time to go to sleep, Ymir changing out of her clothes and into pajamas, not looking at herself. She turned her CD player on as usual, her most mellow music in it so she could turn the volume up a bit too loud.

All she wanted was to block out her thoughts, her life, everything. She just wanted to melt into her bed and never wake up.

\-----------------  
  
By the time Ymir was done talking, Historia was crying, looking at Ymir with a new appreciation. She sat up, turning around to hold her face, gently swiping away her tears.

“Why are you the one crying, baby?”

Historia noted the pet name, pressing her forehead against Ymir’s, closing her eyes.

“’Cause you had to live through that. ‘Cause I love you. ‘Cause I’m really glad you’re still here.”

Ymir breathed out slowly, a small smile tugging at her mouth.

“I love you too, Historia. Thank you for letting me talk about it.”

Historia nodded, curling and uncurling her hands in the fabric of Ymir’s shirt. Ymir laid down, tugging Historia with her, pulling her blankets over both of them. Historia rested her head into Ymir’s shoulder, slowly getting herself to calm down.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it's not obvious, the narration between larger line breaks is a younger Ymir.   
> I was gonna make this _so much worse_ but then I decided I'd just give it all to ch14.


	14. i wanna scream i love you from the top of my lungs but im afraid that somebody else is gonna hear me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Historia feels so safe with Ymir. Until her mother calls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just introducing some conflict. No big deal!

Historia woke slowly, warm in Ymir’s arms. She blinked, eyes adjusting to the soft dawn light. Deciding to not get up just yet (Ymir’s alarm hadn’t gone off), she extracted her arm from underneath the pillow, propping herself up to look at Ymir. Running soft fingertips over her face, tracing the patterns of her freckles, Historia smiled, enjoying the quiet peace.

And then her phone blared angry pop punk music, a ringtone set for a specific contact.

Historia flinched, her movement and the noise enough to startle Ymir out of her sleep. She opened her eyes, about to get up, but Historia laid her hand on her arm.

“No, ‘Mir, don’t worry about it-“

She scrambled off the bed, finding her phone as the song kept playing, answering hurriedly.

“Historia, where have you _been_?”

Historia paled, glancing to Ymir with a hopeless “ _help me_ ” face, and turned away, anxiously curling and uncurling her fingers.

Ymir watched something really, really interesting and heartbreaking happen.

As Historia’s mother talked, words unclear but tone plain as day, sharp and piercing, she saw Historia retreat into herself, visibly deflating, unconsciously making herself even smaller than she already was.

She remained silent, head bowed, listening to her mother go on and on and on, and Ymir was furious by the time she did make out something that was said to Historia.

“You’re not at Reiner’s, are you?”

Historia clenched her hand, staring ahead, speaking for the first time beyond a “Yeah” and quiet “I’m sorry”s.

“No, I’m not! I’m at my _best friend’s_ , which you would know if you read the note I left.”

“Well, why didn’t you _say_ that?”

Historia rubbed her head, the set of her shoulders so defeated, Ymir’s chest ached.

Evidently, her mother had to go, because Historia said an insincere goodbye and hung up, turning back to Ymir, biting her trembling lip, looking like she was a millisecond away from bursting into tears.

Ymir opened her arms, shifting to the other side on her bed and glancing at the clock, relieved at its numbers. They still had an hour before they had to get ready for school. Historia came over and sat on the edge of the bed, folding her legs underneath her, gaze empty.

“Historia.”

She hesitantly met Ymir’s eyes, and really did burst into tears.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry my mom’s such a bitch, I’m sorry I let her walk all over me, I’m sorry I called you my best friend, I mean- you _are_ , you’re the closest friend I’ve ever had, but we’re past that now, aren’t we? I’m-“

Ymir pulled her over, Historia choking back a sob, clinging to her desperately. 

She seemed practiced at muffling her tears.

Ymir wondered how many times she had fallen apart by herself, crying like she was now, with no one to help her pick up the pieces. How many times had this happened to her? Ymir glared at the wall, rubbing Historia’s back, silently resolving to try, at least _try_ , to be there for her.

She couldn’t prevent Historia’s pain, she knew that. But she could at least try to help ease it.

Historia wasn’t crying because her mother was cruel to her.

She was crying because she had felt so _safe_ and so _secure_ , and now that quiet comfort had been ripped away with the piercing noise of her mother’s voice.

Historia pushed herself closer to Ymir, tucking her head underneath Ymir’s chin, sobs wracking her small frame.

“It’s not your fault, Historia, I promise. We can talk about it later, baby, just breathe, it’s okay.”

Trying to listen to Ymir, she took a deep, shuddering breath, and continued, counteracting the sobs with soft breaths, and slowly, all the tension and panic slowly faded away. She relaxed, Ymir still holding her gently, finally remembering that someone other than her mother existed.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Historia hesitated, knowing Ymir would happily listen, but she shook her head, hating that after all this time, she still didn’t want to think about it.

“No.”

“Do you need anything before we get up?”

Ymir kissed her head, glad there was still a half-hour between then and getting out of bed.

“No… Just… just hold me. And then when we do go to school give me one of your jackets. Please. I can’t- I can’t do it without you.”

“I will. ….And, Historia, I don’t care how you refer to me, but I would be very happy to be your girlfriend.”

“Good- ‘cause you are.”

Historia’s voice was soft, but it was enough to reassure Ymir. Closing her eyes, she settled back against the pillows, Historia following and curling in her lap, trying to block out the entire conversation with her mother.

\--

She didn’t have very much luck at that.

Ymir had given her a baggy sweatshirt before they left, and it was _baggy_. In first period, she discovered, if she brought her knees up to her chest, she could put the sweatshirt over her knees and down to the middle of her legs. Her teacher laughed at her, asking if she was cocooning herself, and Historia nodded seriously, flipping the hood up and putting her head down.

Raising her head, she put the hood back down, flashing a smile at her teacher and going back to her work.

Second period was Bio and Ymir.

Historia waited outside for her, eyes brightening when she saw her girlfriend, and they reached out for each other, realizing-

This wasn’t home.

This wasn’t somewhere they were completely safe.

Historia’s eyes dark, she settled for taking Ymir’s arm, walking into class together, sitting down, scooting their chairs together to sit with sides touching, contenting themselves with shared warmth. Ymir looked at her with a small smirk, laughing at just how huge her sweatshirt was on Historia.

(It was a satisfying feeling, seeing her in it.)

\--

It was so hard to be around Ymir and pretend she wasn’t in love with her. It hurt to stand next to her and not touch, to see her in passing and not do anything but smile at her.

And her mother’s words echoing in the back of her mind made it that much worse.

_“I don’t know why you can’t just talk to me.”_

_“What is wrong with you?”_

_“I never pulled stunts like this.”_

_“How could you make us so worried?”_

_“You’re not at Reiner’s, are you?”_

Why had she waited to say something?

Why had she stayed silent when her staunchest supporter was five feet away?

Her mother would think even less of her if she knew, and by the time they saw each other in the hall right after fourth period, Historia couldn’t even look Ymir in the eye.

\--

She stopped at her locker to grab her water bottle, hazily focused on the combination when someone interrupted her.

“Hey, Historia, you wanna go out tonight?"

Reiner smiled at her, leaning against the lockers, and Historia's face went pale.

Oh God, she hadn't told him.

Shutting her locker, she nodded towards an empty corner, mouth dry. They crossed the hallway, and Reiner looked at her expectantly, a smirk on his face.

"Um, I'm.... I'm dating someone. I forgot to tell you, Reiner, I'm so sorry."

He nodded, smiling kindly.

"Can I ask who?"

She took a deep breath, avoiding his gaze, and told the truth.

"Ymir."

It took him a few seconds.

"Wait, wait, _Ymir_?"

Historia nodded silently, hoping she wouldn't regret it. He laughed so hard he cried, back against the wall, Historia staring at him with wide eyes.

"Reiner?"

Her voice was small, scared, and he gasped for air to be able to talk to her.

"No, don't worry, it's cool, I'm glad you're happy, it’s just- oh man, this is incredibly ironic."

"Why?"

He wiped his eyes, still leaning against the wall and shaking his head.

"Have you _seen_ her brother? God, he's so hot."

Historia laughed, almost dropping her things and staring at Reiner.

“God, Reiner, you could have told me!”

He smiled gently at her, shaking his head.

“Nah, you know I couldn’t have. Hey, I gotta go, but call me up if you need a cover, okay? Have fun with your girlfriend!”

\--

Ymir cornered Historia after eighth period, amber eyes serious.

“What’s wrong?”

Historia looked at her, and all the fear from that morning resurfaced.

But this time she managed to speak.

“I’m fucking scared, okay? I’m scared of my mom and I’m scared of this, of us, and I’m scared of how much I love you. I’m scared of keeping you a secret, I’m scared of hurting you, I’m so fucking _afraid_.”

Ymir opened her mouth, searching for words.

“ _Historia_ … I…”

She wrapped her arms around her, Historia pressing herself closer, Ymir’s chin on her head.

“I’m scared too.”

“I just… I want this so bad, I want us, and it’s scary.”

Ymir nodded, playing idly with her hair, trying to come up with anything comforting, but finding nothing but simplicity.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

\--

Historia didn’t go home that night.

Or the rest of the week.

Ymir watched as she paced in her bedroom, bargaining with her mother, and eventually hanging up on her, turning to Ymir with a stony face, telling her she “wasn’t going to be around that _bitch_.”

Ymir was so fucking proud of her.

That night, they lay in her bed, Historia curled around Ymir, tracing absent patterns on the lightly freckled skin of her stomach, and something occurred to her.

Easter was that Sunday.

And that meant the annual Reiss luncheon was just days away.

_Fuck_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHAHAHAHA.  
> Also, if you were curious, Historia's ringtone for her mother is Shut Up by Simple Plan.


	15. promises, and they still feel all so wasted on myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Easter, and Historia hates her relatives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is 3600 words and im incredibly not sorry  
> also if you think the parts where ymirs sayin sweet things to historia are cute i need you to think about the title of this ch for a second  
> AND I WAXED POETIC ABOUT MAKEUP FOR UH THREE PAGES AND 1379 WORDS THATS ABOUT THE USUAL CHAPTER AND I HAVE NO REGRETS

Their week passed with much of the same, punctuated by a conversation between Historia and Bertholdt.

He approached her when Ymir was in the shower and she was doing her homework. He sat down across from her and she looked up, waiting for him to say something. When he did, it was a question, blurted out with a blush on his cheeks.

“Would it be weird if I dated your ex?”

Historia smiled, putting down her pencil.

“Reiner and I were _never_ official. Go for it. And just so you know, he’s interested in you.”

He stared at her, and she laughed.

“Of course he is, Bertl, it’s kinda obvious.  And he told me so.”

His blush deepened, and she went back to her homework.

\--

It was Friday night she went back, Ymir whispering soft words to her as she collected all her miscellaneous things around their apartment.

She went inside her house with wariness, expecting a huge fight as soon as she walked in, but her mother was strangely calm.

She didn’t know what that meant.

\--

Saturday morning, Historia sat in front of her closet, glaring at her fancy clothes.

She didn’t care, she didn’t fucking care about a stupid family luncheon for a holiday from a religion she didn’t even believe in, stupid traditions the only reason why she wasn’t with Ymir right now.

Her parents weren’t even home, she had chores to do, why _wasn’t_ Ymir here?

Texting her quickly, begging for help, Historia got up and stretched, going to find the cleaning supplies.

Ymir was there half an hour later, easy smile greeting her, Historia barely shutting the door before she kissed her.

(Ymir wouldn’t tell you so, but it felt wrong to have Historia not there with her. She had barely slept the night before, bed so _empty_ without her soft warmth.)

Once they had parted, Historia smiling up at her, she dragged her down the stairs, wanting to get the easiest thing over with.

“Help me with my clothes.”

Acceptable outfits were laid out on Historia’s bed, and Ymir examined them all, sighing.

“Historia, I don’t know a single thing about clothes, and you’ve never worn any of these before. Can you try them on?”

She laughed, and did so, Ymir eventually settling on a skirt and shirt Historia hadn’t originally paired together, but did look good on her. Changing back into her normal clothes, hanging everything else up, she paused, turning to Ymir.

“Does that mean you don’t know anything about makeup either?”

She paled, staring at her.

“I tried eyeliner when I was fourteen, and I nearly stabbed myself in the eye. Haven’t touched it since.”

Historia’s eyes brightened, and she threw herself at Ymir, puppy dog face-ing her.

“Please please please let me do your makeup sometime? You’d look so fucking hot with eyeliner, holy shit, and some gold eye shadow, a dark lipstick, some nice mascara- oh my god, Ymir, you’re so beautiful, can I pleeeaaaaasee?”

Blushing, Ymir rubbed the back of her neck with a free hand, surprised Historia was so enthusiastic about it.

“Y-yeah, I guess-“

“Yes!”

Historia jumped out of her arms, going back to hanging her clothes up, acting like a huge dork.

Ymir watched her fondly, so happy to see her excited.

When she was done with her clothes, she smiled at Ymir, going up to the living room to finish cleaning. She put her to work, but paused, considering something.

“Do you and Bertl wanna come? I mean-“

“Yes.”

Historia laughed, starting up the vacuum.

They cleaned, moving around each other naturally, until Historia realized her parents were due back any time. Ymir left after a few minutes of soft kisses, asking her to text her when she was supposed to come over the next morning.

Historia’s excitement dissipated the second Ymir was gone, cleaning the kitchen slowly, trying to keep her mood up with loud music and thoughts of Ymir in carefully-planned out makeup, but…

There was no sense dwelling on it.

_Just do your work so Mom doesn’t yell at you for not doing it right. Don’t worry about it._

Historia texted Ymir, late that night, when she was in her vastly empty bed, and she replied with a call.

“I’ll be there first thing this morning, okay? Tomorrow is gonna be _fine_. And even if it’s not, I will be there, Historia. I promise, things aren’t gonna be this way forever.”

“I love you.”

Ymir laughed, her voice different over their phone connection, but still the same.

“I love you too.  And, if it helps, I miss you. I don’t like it here without you. I just didn’t wanna say it cause, well, it sounds dorky.”

They talked until Historia fell asleep, Ymir’s soft voice easing the worry in her head until she was able to relax.

\--

Ymir texted Historia the moment she woke up, a sleepy smile on her face.

[Ymir: U fell asleep it was fucking adorable]

[Historia: Shhhh]

An hour later, Ymir was at Historia’s house, and Historia obviously had her priorities in line, because the first thing she did was shove Ymir into her bathroom and close the door, all her makeup out on the counter.

“Sit down and close your eyes.”

Ymir obeyed, sitting on the chair Historia had dragged into her bathroom and closing her eyes. She heard Historia’s makeup clattering around and her soft whispers to herself about skin tone and blush and words Ymir barely recognized.

Her mom hadn’t even needed makeup, she was so naturally clear-skinned, and well, gorgeous. She was lucky her mom had passed those genetics down to her, because acne and skin problems are a bitch.

Historia’s soft fingertips lightly traced her cheekbones and turned her face this way and that way. She handled her very gently, and Ymir let herself relax in her hands. Historia said something, so so softly, she barely believed that it had been said.

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

She was so tempted to open her eyes, but Historia was doing something with her eyelids and she didn’t want to ruin it. So she settled for telling her, in the same way-

“I’m not any more beautiful than you are.”

She paused in her work, and Ymir knew she had heard her. She continued after a minute, and spoke quietly, teasingly.

“This is eyeliner, so don’t freak out, okay?”

Her hand was on Ymir’s cheek, steadying her face, and then there was something wet and weird just above her lashes, and it took all the self-control she had not to pull away. Historia lined Ymir’s eye, moving on to the other, and once she was done, stopped to examine the makeup.

“Okay. Open your eyes.”

Ymir did so, and tried to see in the mirror, but Historia stopped her.

“No, I’m not done yet.”

Sighing, she settled back down, and Historia stared at her, tilting her head.

“Alright, I need you to keep your eyes open. And the eyeliner is gonna be really close to your eye, so please, please stay still, cause I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Ymir’s eyes widened as Historia uncapped her eyeliner, and she paused.

“I don’t have to if you don’t want me to…”

“No, it’s good, I trust you.”

She smiled shyly, and held Ymir’s face again, carefully lining her lower lid, not slipping once.

Ymir actually really liked this. It was scary having a pointy thing near her eye, yeah, but it was Historia, and Historia wasn’t gonna hurt her. With her eyes open, she could see the concentration in her face, and it was _really fucking cute_. She could feel and hear Historia’s breath, and it was intimate in a way Ymir didn’t know existed.

She finished the other eye, capping the eyeliner as she turned away.

When she faced Ymir again, about to say something, she stopped dead in her tracks, mouth open slightly.

“ _Ymir_. Holy- holy fuck, I-“

Ymir just stared at her blankly, kind of confused, and Historia blushed.

“Please, don’t go near anyone ever, because they will think you’re the hottest person on earth, and there’s no chance I’m better than them, and I will be sad.”

She leaned forward, making sure Historia was looking at her, and brushed some hair out of her face, kissing her softly once she was done talking.

“That’s dumb as _fuck_ and you know it, Historia.”

She sighed, going back to her makeup, and Ymir caught her hands.

“No, listen to me. To me, right now, you are the most amazing person on earth, and I doubt that will change anytime soon. Please don’t worry about dumb things like that, okay? Cause, you could be dating Reiner, or anyone else, but you’re dating _me_ , and I feel pretty damn lucky.”

Historia smiled, kissing Ymir quickly before getting back to her makeup, taking out a tapered brush and putting some of the blush on it.

“You can close your eyes again if you want.”

Ymir kept her eyes open, following Historia’s kind of strange directions about what to do with her face, loving her quiet focus.

And then something occurred to her.

“Historia… Is this what you do every day?”

She glanced up to meet Ymir’s gaze, and shrugged.

“Yeah, pretty much. I use a foundation too, but our skin tones are too different for you to use it. And bronzer, but you don’t need that.”

Ymir fell silent, thinking about it, and Historia added on in a quiet voice.

“A lot of women do even more than this, you know? ‘Cause everyone expects ladies to look perfect twenty-four seven. It’s really, well, it’s fucking stupid. I just do it ‘cause it’s the one thing I can do well. And ‘cause I like it, which is what really matters. I use it as kind of a shield, though, like… I don’t feel _me_ without my makeup on. It’s weird.”

Ymir watched her change brushes and palettes, closing her eyes as Historia told her to, feeling the brush over her eyelids, fibers strange and unfamiliar, but Historia’s control was perfect, smoothing the eye shadow with gentle swipes, and she was so happy to be sitting there. It was all over too soon, with a plastic clicking noise and Historia’s touch gone from her skin. But her voice was still there, soft and soothing, something deep in Ymir contented whenever she heard it.

“Would you be okay with me putting- here, let’s see, uh, mascara and a lip gloss on you?”

Ymir looked at her, two different tubes of stuff in her hands, and agreed without hesitation.

“Sure.”

“This one, well, this will be interesting. I need you to keep your eyes open, and _not blink_. I’m gonna be careful as possible.”

Ymir nodded, watching Historia twist open the thicker tube, a deep black twisty wand thingy at the end, and she set down the other half.

A few seconds later, Ymir decided she did not like mascara. Historia winced, keeping her hand steady and with just a few more flicks, she was done.

With that eye.

She repeated the process, Ymir staying still, and sighed when she was completely done.

“Historia, I love you, but I’m not doing that again.”

Historia laughed, smiling at her, replacing the mascara and taking the lip gloss out, looking to Ymir for permission.

“Will you like, uh, how to describe it- stretch out your mouth? Like, a fake smile. A really, really, fake and small smile.”

She demonstrated, and Ymir did so, Historia sliding the sticky brush over her bottom lip, squinting.

“Rub your lips together. I think there’s enough there.”

Ymir did, rolling her eyes at Historia.

 “Yeah, you’re done.”

Ymir got up, going over and looking in the mirror.

She paused, confused.

Well, this was new.

She actually looked like a human being, instead of a blob. An _attractive_ human being.

Ymir’s eyes looked catlike with eyeliner following the contours of her upper lid, sharpening as it drew closer to the inner corners of her eye, thick but not too thick. The eyeliner on her lower lid contributed to the effect, darkening the color of her eyes, but the soft, barely there, gold eye shadow contrasted with it, drawing out the light in her irises, flecks of an almost-orange color where she had never noticed them.

Her cheekbones highlighted, she looked even older, lightly applied blush drawing attention to the way her face was shaped. And with the dark lip gloss bringing out the shape of her mouth, she looked like a fucking supermodel.

When she forced her attention away from the reflection, she realized Historia was doing her own makeup, styling it so much more differently than her own. Soft curves instead of sharp lines, more various powders on her face, a light pink lipstick on her lips, and Ymir looked at her with awe.

Makeup was fucking amazing, and a force to be feared.

Historia finished her own a few minutes later, flashing a smile at Ymir, and it was all she could to do to not kiss all that pretty pink lipstick off of her.

She was very pleased with herself, because Ymir was staring at her like she was from another planet.

They left the bathroom (more like Ymir following in a daze) and Historia slowly put her nice clothes on, the comfort and safety and happiness and love slipping away as she remembered.

In just an hour or so, her house was gonna be full of people she hated, she wasn’t gonna be able to kiss Ymir openly, and it felt like her heart fell to the floor.

\--

….Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

It wasn’t that Historia didn’t want Ymir and Bertholdt here, it was that _she_ didn’t want to be here. She hated her relatives, she hated this skirt, she hated small talk, she hated cleaning house, she hated cooking, she hated everything about family fucking gatherings.

She hated being the show pony, expected to smile and laugh and not feel uncomfortable when an older male relative she barely knew commented on her beauty.

She hated not being able to hold Ymir’s hand.

They stole a moment downstairs, Historia fighting for a calm, slow breath, Ymir close enough for comfort and just far away enough for space.

She kissed her fiercely, holding her hands tightly, telling her that it was okay, this wouldn’t last, in a few hours they would be downstairs in comfy clothes and cuddling.

Historia was so grateful.

Just before dinner started, the panic came back in a rush, Historia trying to keep calm. There were so many people in her normally empty house.

She ducked out of the dining room, and went out to the porch to sit down, smoothing her skirt. Ymir followed, sitting beside her and putting an arm around her, saying nothing.

She didn’t like it when her girlfriend was afraid.

Historia leaned into Ymir, resting her head on her shoulder, and after a few minutes, Bertholdt came out.

“I’m really sorry, you guys, your relatives are looking confused, and I don’t remember a single name. Please come back in?”

With a long sigh, Historia got up, Ymir following, pausing in front of the door to hold her tightly.

It was needed, because when they went in, Bertholdt right behind them, a middle-aged woman saw and made a beeline for them, introducing herself before anyone could say word.

“Historia! Hello, my dear, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you! Look how pretty you are! Oh, hello, you two, I’m Historia’s second cousin May.”

Ymir smiled tightly, shaking her hand and introducing herself, Bertholdt following suit. May looked at the three of them and laughed like she knew something.

“Historia, this young man is so handsome, you’re so lucky!”

Historia gritted her teeth, faking a smile, trying to keep her tone polite.

“Actually, Bertholdt is just my friend. And-“

“Oh, then, Ymir, you said your name was, you two make a very cute couple.”

Ymir laughed, shaking her head.

“No, um, we’re siblings. “

May paused, staring at them like the concept of men and women just being friends was entirely alien to her.

And Historia was pissed.

She took a step closer to Ymir, sliding her arm around her waist, Ymir putting her hand on her hip without thinking. Historia smiled at her cousin, barely keeping her anger out of her voice.

“And actually, Ymir is my girlfriend, so I would _very much appreciate it_ if you would stop making assumptions.”

May’s mouth fell open, and Historia’s face went pale.

She hadn’t meant to do that.

_Shit, holy shit, motherfucker, oh, this is bad, this is very, very bad. Historia, you fucking dumbass._

Historia was suddenly aware of Ymir’s soft touch, and she took a deep breath, unable to stop a smile as she turned her fear into a cold, dangerous fury.

“May, dearest cousin, if you tell anyone before I do, I’ll return the favor. You might need to think about how valuable your marriage is to you. ‘Cause, you know, that affair a few years ago _just might_ deeply hurt your husband. Bye now!”

Historia let her arm fall from Ymir’s waist as she walked away, Ymir following her, mind racing to catch up.

That was the most badass thing she had ever seen.

She didn’t know Historia was so ruthless.

( _But then_ , a part of her suggested, _maybe she’s not, normally. Maybe you just mean so much to her she would do that. For you._ )

Ymir decided she would think about that later, sitting down next to Historia at the long dining table.

\--

Historia ate as much as she could stomach, laughing fakely and answering questions she already had a million fucking times.

Her breaking point was during dessert. A younger relative, newly married, winked at her, and asked such a stupid question.

“So, Historia, Bertholdt, when’s the wedding?”

Bertholdt coughed, startled, and Historia, holding Ymir’s hand underneath the table, tightened her grip to the point of pain.

“Thank you, but, no, Bertholdt and I _are not_ dating. Please, I have zero romantic affection towards him. Stop it.”

Bertholdt shot her an awkward smile, and the table was silent for a moment before side conversations broke out, and Historia was able to go back to trying not to think.

\--

Finally, an hour later, everyone had left, her parents were upstairs, and without an explanation to Ymir, Historia threw herself in the shower, pulling fancy, too tight clothes off of her, not bothering to take off her makeup before sitting down in the spray.

She hated this feeling. Too numb to cry, and her thoughts ran rampant in her head, saying awful things to herself, words she had never said aloud nagging at her.

After a while, Historia unaware of time passing, Ymir came in, taking off her own clothes and slipping in beside Historia, offering her hand when she lifted her head, pulling the smaller girl up and letting her stand in the water. Grabbing the shampoo, she put some in her hands, gently rubbing it through Historia’s hair, not saying a word, just gently guiding her around, rinsing the soap, putting more in, repeating, and washing her own hair while she was at it.

Historia was crying, and Ymir rinsed the soap off her hands immediately, turning to her and tucking wet hair back, out of her face, hating the _pain_ in her blue eyes, beautiful makeup streaky.

“Do you wanna tell me about it?”

She nodded, angrily brushing a tear away with the back of her hand.

“Yeah, I need to, I can’t keep _doing_ this to myself, I-“

Historia took a deep breath, Ymir’s soft touch and presence grounding her, allowing her to remember that she wasn’t alone with these feelings, she didn’t have to internalize everything, her emotions were _valid_ and _important_ to at least one person, someone could and would listen.

“I hate them. I hate hiding in the open. I hate looking at you and having to control my expression, cause every time I look at you I just want to smile, and I must look like a dork with cartoon heart eyes, and I don’t care about that, but I care about what happens to us, I care about being safe in my own house, but I never have been, have I? My cousin, he goes to school with us, Armin? I think he and Eren are together? He came out a year or so ago and after the initial drama I haven’t heard his name in my house since. He can’t even _look_ at me, Ymir. I don’t want that to happen to me, but I can’t handle staying silent.”

Ymir remained quiet, amber eyes dark as she met Historia’s gaze, trying to decide what to say.

“Historia, I mean, I’d love it if we could be open and just as obnoxious as other couples, but it’s not a perfect world, and no matter what, I want what you want. But… this is causing you so much pain, and it hurts to see you hurting, and, fuck, I just…”

She smiled, just a little, at Ymir, heart suddenly so much lighter despite the hurt, now that words she’d kept inside so long were finally heard.

They finished washing their hair and got into comfier clothing, Ymir staying as long as possible, the two spending the rest of the afternoon and their evening talking quietly, just being together and feeling all the better for it.


	16. What if she could open it up?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Historia lets it all go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was up til 4 am. You can't fucking judge me.  
> Also happy birthday to one of my best friends, Kate (knic28)!!!!! Her birthday ficlet is the first of three epilogues for ascb, so you should all go read that. Or whenever this is finished, cause it'll be really soon.  
> fun fact today made me remember exactly why I wrote Historia's mom the way I wrote her

She was gonna do it.

She was gonna tell her parents.

Oh, God.

She felt so fucking sick.

Underneath the table, she texted Ymir, and she realized her hands were shaking.

[Historia: Hahahaa im going to tell them and my hand s ae shaking so bad oh my god im so scared]

[Ymir: You can do it baby it’s gonna be okay I love you so much and if it goes bad ill come get you]

Ymir replied almost instantly, and Historia smiled, hitting her home button to see the photo she had taken the day before, of them after she had done their makeup.

They were fucking gorgeous, and they were looking at each other.

“Historia, come on, no texting at the table.”

She smiled as she looked up, forcing the tremble out of her voice.

“Sorry, Dad.”

Historia set it back down, taking another bite of her barely-touched dinner. Her mother looked across the table, frowning.

“Historia, are you feeling well? Eat some more at least, and remember, you really can’t afford to miss any more school.”

She smiled tightly down at her plate, turning her phone around in her hands, silently gearing herself up to say what she had to say.

“Um, I have something to tell you guys.”

“Are you and Reiner _finally_ serious?”

Historia laughed, looking at her mother coldly and shaking her head.

“The farthest from it.”

“Then spit it out, Historia, come on.”

She smiled.

“My friend Ymir? She was here yesterday. I’m in love with her. I love her. So much, you don’t even know. I… I’m-“

“ _What?_ ”

Her mother’s voice was quiet and low, and Historia’s first and strongest instinct was to lie, to “just kidding” it out and go back downstairs, tell Ymir she couldn’t do it.

“You heard me. I’m not dating Reiner, I’m dating Ymir, and I’m really, really happy.”

They stared at each other, Historia defiantly refusing to look away, her father looking between them with concern.

He broke their silence awkwardly, smiling at his daughter.

“I’m so glad you’re happy, Historia, that’s really amazing. Maybe we can properly meet her sometime?”

It was her mother who broke eye contact, turning to stare at her husband incredulously.

“Excuse me?”

Historia gave her dad a thankful look before going back to her mother, unable to stop a small smirk.

“No, no, don’t look at him, look at me. He’s being a decent human being, and you, well, you haven’t done anything but look incredibly offended. Which is pretty awful, actually. Did it ever occur to you that I may not be straight? That I might not want a picket fence with two kids and a dog and a terrible marriage? Thanks for that, Mom. Thanks for raising me to feel like I had to hide. To feel like everything I ever felt or said was wrong and invalid and not important. To feel like I had to be picture perfect to be even recognized in any way. To hide downstairs because I was afraid of opening up, afraid of someone seeing what I’m really like and hating it. Cheer and Ymir are the only things I have ever loved.”

Her mother was speechless, and Historia continued, leaning forward in her chair, gaze never leaving hers.

“Do you have anything to say? Want to redeem yourself just a little bit?”

“Well, well I- this is just, a surprise, Historia. I don’t know what we did to make you feel this way, I had no _idea_ , and honey, I don’t think you’re in love with that girl. I think you’re just close friends! I know I was really close with my friends when I was your age.”

Historia stared at her, furious.

“Do you seriously not hear yourself right now? All those days I spent alone at home. All those days I brushed you off with ‘I’m fine.’ And not once you really asked how I was feeling, if I was okay, you didn’t look me in the eye and make sure I really was okay. And Ymir did. She saw right through me, and I cannot believe I made it this far without her.”

“Historia. You know this isn’t right, I thought-“

“Stop. Don’t you _dare_ tell me how I feel isn’t _right,_ because I don’t even believe in your God, and when I’m with Ymir, it’s the most right I’ve ever felt. I feel at home with her. I feel at home in her shitty apartment, wearing her clothes and watching TV and taking showers and just being with her. I feel more at home there than I ever had in this cold, designer house. You can’t take that away from me. I wanted to tell you to see if you would understand, but obviously not, and I cannot believe this.”

Her father was just watching at that point, smiling slightly, and her mother turned to him angrily, gesturing towards Historia like she was some stupid thing he’d done, as casual as leaving his shoes around the house.

“Talk some sense into her, because obviously she’s not listening to me.”

“No. You’re the one not listening! You have never listened to me! I’m just some fucking problem to be taken care of, a stain on the otherwise perfect carpet you just can’t get out. I don’t know what I expected from telling you, but this sure as hell isn’t it. Dad, thank you, cause you’ve at least tried to be a good parent, but _you_ , Mom, you never tried. Fuck this, fuck you, I’m so done with trying to live here, trying to be a good daughter for the sake of appearances.”

Historia stood, mother speechless and scandalized, father’s smile even wider, pushing back her chair.

“I’m going to Ymir’s. If you’d like to start making this better, I have my phone.”

She turned and went downstairs, grabbing the bag she had already packed and her school bag, hitting Ymir’s speed dial.

“My dad’s good but my mom’s not and I totally yelled at her holy shit ‘Mir I cannot believe that just happened I can’t-“

Ymir, extremely worried, interrupted her, voice soothing.

“Take a breath, baby, it’s okay, I’m so proud of you, she’ll come around eventually and even if she doesn’t, it’s not your fault and you don’t need someone like that in your life.”

Historia listened, just the general sound of Ymir’s voice soft and reassuring, and she smiled.

“I’m coming over, okay? Stay on the phone with me?”

“Always.”

She ran up the stairs, barely pausing to flash her father a soft and thankful look, going outside to her car and leaving, Ymir talking to Bertholdt.

She put her phone on speaker and put it down, pulling away from her house without a single glance backwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as of now i can officially say the worst is over, and the next and last chapter is just gonna be these dumb girls together cause they deserve it


	17. How wonderful life is now you're in the world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Historia and Ymir spend some well-deserved time together.

Historia was at Ymir’s in what felt like no time, telling her she was there and saying a soft “see you in just a minute”.

She went in, unlocking the door with her spare key, and Ymir was on her instantly.

“What exactly happened? Are you okay?”

Bertholdt was in the background, looking at her with worry, and Ymir was watching her carefully, holding her hands.

“H-hold on, Ymir, let me put down my stuff.”

She laughed, stepping back to let Historia get the heavy bags off of her arm, expression kind of dazed.

“Do you need anything?”

“Um, can we go to your room? And can I have some water?”

Ymir nodded, gentle hand finding Historia’s.

“Of course. Go ahead, I’ll get you a glass.”

Historia looked at her gratefully, heading to her room and falling face-down on her bed.

The adrenaline was long gone from her system, and the panic and fear was starting to set in again.

Holy shit, had she really done that?

She knew she was angry, but…

She hadn’t known she had the strength to do that.

Ymir came in, glass of water in hand, putting it on her nightstand with a clink and smiling, sitting beside Historia, hand on her back.

“You alright there?”

She made a vague noise, turning over and moving so her head was in Ymir’s lap, tension slowly seeping out of her with Ymir’s soft touch.

She watched Historia’s chest rise and fall, breathing a little irregular, but slowly returning to normal, perfectly content to wait for her to speak.

Ymir was so incredibly proud of Historia for facing her parents (or was it just her mother?).

She didn’t really know exactly how hard it was, because, well, her mom was gone too soon for her to tell her, Bertholdt was _just_ as gay as she was, and her dad was so out of the picture it didn’t even matter.

She couldn’t even imagine the fear Historia felt.

Ymir brushed a piece of her blonde hair out of her face, unable to stop a loving smile.

This beautiful human being was so strong, and so amazing, and she was here with her because she wanted to be.

Holy _shit_ , she loved Historia so fucking much.

Historia nuzzled her thigh, sighing deeply.

She loved Ymir like nothing else in her life, and something occurred to her.

“Hey, ‘Mir?”

“Yeah?”

“You wanna know how I knew I’m in love with you?”

“Sure.”

“After Sasha’s party, I dreamt about you. At the end, you asked me to marry you, once this was all over. And I woke up and I realized I wanted that. More than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

Ymir smiled at her, idly wondering about the rest of the dream, but not bothering to ask. Historia would tell her if she wanted to.

“I knew I’m in love with you because you smiled, and were kind, even though we both felt so terrible inside. And ‘cause you’re so fucking incredible I can’t believe it.”

 Historia reached up to touch Ymir’s face, tracing the angles and counting her freckles quietly, heart so full of love for her girlfriend, she just felt like she was going to cry, she loved her _so much_ -

“You have that look on your face, my love, what’s wrong?”

She sat up, moving so their foreheads were together, Ymir looking at the unshed tears in her eyes with concern, but Historia was smiling at her with so much happiness.

“You know what? Absolutely nothing. Nothing is wrong right now, because I’m here with you, and I love you so incredibly much, and I just- Ymir, thank you, thank you so much, I didn’t know I could be happy, I didn’t know I deserved it. I didn’t know. And I told my parents because of you, I mean, it would have to happen someday, but I was brave enough to do it because of you, and I… You will never know just how much you mean to me, sweetheart, ‘cause no language we could ever speak has the words.”

Ymir kissed the tears off of Historia’s face, her own starting to drip down, but there were only a few.

“Historia, _that was all you_. You were always brave enough. I guess I just made you realize it. I’m so proud of you, I can’t even begin to imagine how scared you were, and I hate that you were scared, but it’s okay because you did it and I’m sorry your mom’s being an asshole because you don’t deserve that. God, Historia, I love you. I wish we had known each other earlier, you know? Maybe things would have been easier that way.”

Historia laughed, eyes bright with some indescribable feeling- no matter what, they were gonna be okay, with or without each other, because knowing and loving the other had given them so much strength and so much happiness they hadn’t had before.

She hoped they did stay together, but she knew too well that nothing works out as planned.

But, she supposed, maybe that was a good thing, because if life went as planned, she would be dead by now.

Kissing Ymir, she drove _that_ thought away.

No use dwelling on it.

\--

They were up late that night, for no other reason than talking and kissing and laughing and just _being together_.

They got into a tickle fights, Bertholdt yelling at them through the wall once Historia’s shrieks got too loud.

“I can’t tell what’s going on, but fucking stop it, it’s 1 goddamn AM!”

They stifled their laughter with pillows, smiling widely at each other, slowly becoming sleepy.

Historia took some of Ymir’s clothes to sleep in, even though she had her own, because “I don’t care, they smell like you and I love it.”

Ymir turned the light out and they laid there on her bed, Historia saying one last thing before she fell asleep.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

Ymir just pulled her closer, legs entangled, the dark and their closeness combining so she could barely tell where Historia began and where she ended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is about Historia, and it's about me. You have absolutely no idea how much this fic means to me, and how much it means that people took the time to read it, to leave me kudos, to write a comment. Writing this story has helped me so much, and I am so incredibly grateful.  
> This is the longest thing I've ever written, and the best. I am so fucking proud of myself, even if it's shitty fanfiction about two girls dealing with issues I have and being in love.  
> I still cannot believe this story means something to someone other than me, and it's interesting sometimes, because my friends will yell at me for how sad it gets, and I just laugh because guys, you wanna know why it hurts so bad?  
> It's because most of their pain is mine, and that's why I know it so well.  
> Thank you, and don't worry, because I have so fucking many extra fic/lets planned. This isn't the end of their story.  
> And thank you, Kate, for listening to Sarah Solovay's All She Could Be and asking if that song was about Historia Reiss, because that's what started it all.

**Author's Note:**

> For clarification:  
> -Ymir and Bertl are twins  
> -Their mom passed recently, I have to iron those details out  
> -Historia's experiences as a cheerleader are based off of my best friend's, so I don't know everything  
> -There's a series because I have at least one extra ficlet in mind  
> -The scene in italics is from much later uvu


End file.
